February 16, 2017, Carlsbad, CA-
I have traveled, from one healing place
to another,
and then to another, yet.
Prescott has been my refuge,
for six years,
and six months.
Blythe is a wide spot
in the Colorado Desert,
of California’s underscored East.
I stayed there,
because it has the river.
A desert was once an ocean.
Dig deep enough,
past the scorpions’ nests,
and the caliche,
and there will be shell fossils.
La Jolla,
bustling,
overcrowded,
expensive as a place to live,
but sublimely peaceful,
if you look past the mobs.
It reminds me of a time,
long ago,
when I was in the Bronx.
on a Sunday morning,
in April.
No one else was about,
just me,
and Yankee Stadium,
and the animals of Bronx Zoo,
and the murals,
painted by those of good heart.
Today,
it was all the parents and kids,
beautiful people of tomorrow,
and a small colony of sea lions.
There are few murals in La Jolla,
but there is a Museum of Contemporary Art
I left La Jolla,
and negotiated the hordes of people
trying, desperately, to get past
one another,
only to meet again,
at the next light.
We did this dance,
on I-5
and again
on the PCH,
from Encinitas,
to Carlsbad.
Here, I bought
yet another box
of Girl Scout cookies,
because mother and child
were alone,
ignored by those
passing in and out of Von’s.
I bought a box,
because this girl
is our future,
and the future needs
the water of encouragement.
I was followed
by a grandmother,
who bought four boxes,
which Mom proclaimed
the biggest sale of the day.
Encouragement
draws more encouragement.
I settled in,
at my Econolodge,
one of my refuges,
near the ocean.
