San Bernardino County is sort of the Twilight Zone of Southern California. It feels much more like the desert that it is, rather than the heavily developed Orange County and the sprawling urban Los Angeles cityscape.
And so it goes to show, not unlike these swallows, those of us who are home in California are bound to it; unable to stay away no matter how we stray.
Almost a work of fiction. Three thousand dollars a month. Three thousand divided by four weeks is seven hundred-fifty dollars a week. Seven hundred-fifty dollars a week divided by five weekdays is a hundred and fifty dollars a day.
Then, for the first time in years, you called me one night while I was graphing calculus equations and asked me to go on a drive with you.
We sat on the swings, then, and you told me that you liked me because I had nice hair and because I was funny. You asked me to tell you why I liked you back.
A beautiful thought: the wanting to keep intact something cold and pure and white, something that reflects the morning light, something that puts a gentle hush on your world.
You are a sea and I am a sea. Beside me, I see the body of your water and throw my own against yours. But like that magic place off the Alaskan coast, from our meeting erupts a ridge of separation.
Most of the time it’s fine and I don’t think about it but, when I need someone to blame, I let myself remember you.