imminent [ june ] move to los angeles
so tell him he’s dreaming
baby let’s go
it’s not that the bay area was bad it just wasn’t. it was a ubiquitous ice cream truck and empty streets and what suburbia really is, not the preened cul-de-sac but bankrupt cities with stray cats overgrown lawns half the population sitting on the stoop or inside all afternoon watching television going to the corner 7-11 for a little something, closed restaurants, lost chains. the quinceañera store still open, as is the china house, as is scotty’s diner. places with handpainted signs. the one cobbler in town. the farmer’s market on saturdays. statues of seahorses on the lawn, pitbulls behind chainlink, a volkswagon van on every block, broken or almost so. orange poppies. the mariachi trumpets at night, the noise from the little league game a few blocks away. the possum of louisiana street, scurrying blind over the fences, rattling the dogs. marijuana everywhere, lemon trees everywhere. tape decks, yard sales. the shelter for homeless kids. the long highway through the marsh, the roller coasters on the horizon.