It’s true
That when you set out
With no objective
You quickly get one
It strikes you like
The sun strikes your face
At a magnified degree
To wake you up
On certain mornings
You step out and breathe the air
And suddenly you’re not without care
But you can do as you
So desire
Friends down the block
In parts you wouldn’t
Be able to safely walk
Off of Del Rosa
Home by another name
Church Street and Buckeye
In the shadow of an arrowhead
It’s pointing you to
The next graspable goal:
“Here”
With your own place to make
Fit into the endless landscape
You can rocket down Boulder
In an S2000
Blockbusters at the cinema
Breaking up fights
Billowing vape
Blasting miles at a time
You can wake up and look out
At the entire valley
From a mansion’s balcony
Citrus Plaza, Redlands
Loma Linda foothills
Like the foothills of
East Highland
Where smog drifts in the air
Tying tongues in limestone
And burning lungs
With runes and tomes
When I cough I remember
This is where I’m from
The land of oranges
Of dry, hot air
Saturated only with
Broken glass and exhaust
You can find palm trees
Close to the cities
But once you leave the roads
You’re just a stone’s throw
From finding out why
You woke up this time today
