Richmond:
End of vein, closest I'll get to her and the
farthest from ///// home. Here, we all go
South but sit ///// on bordered fences,
palmed love lin ///// es stretching peripheral
El Cerrito Plaza:  ///// When the doors

close their eyes  ///// meet. My bag of

carrots and cello ///// phane is
no match for the ///// scented glue and craft
supplies that sit, w ///// aiting for the next stop in
the tote bag of fumb ///// ling hands.
North Berkeley: The ///// space beside sees
me sway with the car.  ///// They see a
someone they'll never ///// see again, the
remnants of a fictitious ///// outing, the love
their lives or the next pro ///// tagonist in their nightmare.
Downtown Berkeley: Wh ///// at marches in are colonies
of hormones and almost of ///// ages In their backpacks
hold a life that my bag of ca ///// rrots and cellophane

never had. They smell like ha ///// nd holding and loose

paper but my cellophane stench ///// turns heads

south. Scented glue and cologne ///// pays no mind

as they too are one of them. Ashby: ///// The drum circle

lives here but on weekdays only my ///// heart knows

the sound of Sunday. For hormones and helplessness

all lines lead home but here I wonder where mine is