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.