skonen_blades

Because it’s tabula rasa here
The rain washes all the chalkboards clean
Ready for new instructions
Blank slates
Because we’re all actors here in Hollywood North
Pretending that equity is worth something valuable
Vacant stares and vacant homes
While the surf licks the cold sand
And restaurants grow and fail and grow again
like weeds with heartbeats
A rainforest haze throws a blanket on us
The kind of pine-scented dampness
That makes sure that anything untended rots
Everything turns to rust and mulch here
Stolen bikes are currency
The drunk man on the bus tells me
that we have never gone back to the moon
Because of capitalism
And that a person should be valued for what they are
Not what they have
And I can’t disagree
Because while there is reality and then there is fiscal reality
We can't seem to set our sights on anything good
The days slosh into one another here
There is only one damp circular path of days
I’m grateful to be here
When the rain calms me down
And tells me to be quiet and listen
But I can feel our intrusion
Our right angles
Our banishment of a nature that wants to envelop us
I feel the forest’s confusion that we don’t want to be included
I like knowing that if we died tomorrow
That our buildings would grow moldy and weak
And collapse into ivy-covered piles of rubble
More quickly than in other parts of the world
I like it here
And I’m thankful for the rain


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