Love poem: Grocery store
West Dale
Palms boulevard
Clover avenue
I go to the grocery store
And I run right into you
Ask me how things are back home
Do your days ever feel terribly long
I say, I have to go
Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk
Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November
They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed
Swing the door open to a settled fire,
Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers
Collapsing into moonlight, but
Cradled like dust
I’ll be strong for both of us
If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes
It’s really the only way that you’ll survive
It’s how you keep the dreams alive
It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale
Palms boulevard
Clover avenue
When I go to the grocery store
I always look for you
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