A Lot Like Home
She's like God, peering at us from over the horizon, cat gazing into a dish of milk.
The bikers ride on the highway like they wanna die.
It's a lot like home because I'm here.
The mountains like devils fingers holding up a delicate tapestry.
Pueblos, pisos, Picassos.
Gray Florida, floral Canada, secret Sacramento.
The way a Japanese girl speaks Spanish like it was meant to be.
The stillness of windmills as we caress the sagittal crest.
Fallopian Australia, little Mexico, crabgrass Columbia.