5.22.17

where i live now has

deep valleys and mountains

that rise like muscles on every horizon,

and the grass changes color with the seasons,

green in the colder months,

golden in the summer.

where i live now smells

of horse shit and vague sewage and fire

and chamomile flowers and eucalyptus,

and all around me roam wild beasts

that seem just as confused as I am about human life,

and there are unholy insects, there are

frogs, ducks, dragonflies,

and the occasional scorpion.

where i live now feels like a city

where nobody else lives because

the houses are all overgrown

and spaced out and not conducive

to fostering human relationships.

where i live now is wild earth

not even a mile from the freeway.

where i live now is where they used to film

old western movies.

where i live now sustains itself

on the constant thrum of centuries old

sycamore and oak trees t

hat were around when the Indians lived here,

but are lonely now,

so lonely, nothing to do but throw patches of shade

on places where no human or animal ever lies.

i once saw a family of deer while jogging near the place

where i live now.

it was the closest thing to beautiful i’ll ever witness.

sometimes i love

where i live now.

but most days i miss who we were

when we lived in that other place,

that is nothing like the place

where i live now,

and deserves its own poem for description.

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Written at 12:37 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA, while chewing on my sweater’s drawstring…and I just sneezed.