C.A.

California heavy twilight air pressed

breathless kiss to forlorn lax lips.

On the border of the San Joaquin,

dark green dew-sheen leaflets

line infinite horizon here in this

end-of-the-continent, end-of-the-line,

border-the-sea community.

This cotton-picking pick-a-ninny

met dawn at his dollar-a-pound performance.

By sunset’s soft sound, his knees hit the ground.

Exhaustion abounds, but content sigh resounds

across the land.

Here where the continent tipped,

everyone starving-hungry, mean and hope-filled

in the valleys of California,

dreaming of olden Nebraska homestead

and momma’s sweet, once-upon-a-time cornbread.

Here, in a golden land

where dreams of prosperity and

a HOLLYWOOD sign agleam grow gray.

I’ve traveled far but I’m here to stay

in The Land of Milk and Honey,

The Eldorado State.

I might have lost all my money

but my future's there across the Golden Gate.