California

I want to be in a car

On the way to the airport

That’s when I’m at my best

Feeling like

I’ve been brave enough

To get in a car

And get on a plane

And get away from it all

Somebody told me

It was too pretty here

To live

A place too pretty

Because to live

Somewhere like this

You gotta love yourself

A lot more than I do

I’m made for bleached streets

And cement

Even though all I write down in notebooks

Are sketches of trees

And high canopies

I aspire to my creative impulses

But where my head is at

Is somewhere scorched

I want a small backyard

And sweaty sheets

From a long night

With a broken ceiling fan

Only California’s

Going to give me that

He called me the other day

And made me promise

Everything

All over again

Everything I said

Before I left

About what the plan was

And where the time would go

He’s been putting ‘X’s on calendar days

And I’ve been putting on bathing suits

Waiting for something to change

So I know it’s time for me

To change too

But they don’t have change here

That’s how people lose themselves

And love it

While back home

Their old heroes

Become imaginary friends

I didn’t become a different person here

All day long

I hear people tell me

How different things are

Now that they’re rested

And well-fed

I tell ‘em--

Never underestimate

How far a good night’s sleep

And a good meal

Can take you

Travel doesn’t change you

And neither does the place you get to

When you’re done traveling there

It’s just that most people

People like me

They don’t let themselves think
And when they finally do

They make decisions

About what they want to have

Come next for them

And those decisions are usually

Something nobody saw coming

Not even them

I’m going to the airport

The same person I was

When the plane landed

But when I get back

Nobody will see me

For who I am

I’ll have to re-introduce myself

To California

And how unromantic

It can be

The longer I’m away

The longer Paradise

Starts to look pedestrian

And far away

Starts to look

Like someplace

I should make my way back to

You can only logic yourself

For a week or two

Before you feed it

Like a whining dog

Even though it’s already been fed

I tire myself out sometimes

I really do

But I also love being in the back of a car

Suitcase in the trunk

People waving at me

Wishing me well

Not knowing

Why I’m doing

What I’m doing

But doing it

All the same

Doing it because it seems like

The only thing

To do