Petals fall in dust,

Pollen thickly coats the ground,

Tree shed their birthright.

Strip malls stand quiet,

No money is changing hands,

No merchants present.

Desert green and bloom,

Returning to dusty home,

Returning to drought.

Military base,

Standing waiting for a war,

Between the beaches.

The pacific coast,

Letting highways meander,

As I with our time.

Some swordfish tacos,

Open air dining and drinka,

Best done by the coast.

Stacked upon the stack,

Concrete homes rise by the sand,

Cliffside to bedside.

Plastic film sails by,

Populating the ocean,

Out competing fish.

Los Angeles home,

Paving to the horizon,

Mountains without space.

It’s a little road,

But it does go a long way.

Over here to there.