PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Searching for a way to Sacramento

Leaving these dark east clouds behind

Because maybe this way they’ll remember me,

caught under the waves,

asleep in the sand,

a writer on a park bench under a palm tree.

Pros and cons, back and forth

Weddings and funerals

as the hourglass of the storm ticks away

All I can think, all I can dream

is maybe in Sacramento it’s blue

Maybe they see the light of day.

But not this blue,

the view of the rain clouds and the puddles and my chest and my veins that struggle to wake up every morning.

I poke them.

I have to remind them, order them around so they pump my blood and keep me from turning into one of those empty body suits on the street over there, straining against a gray concrete existence.

No, not this blue.

The blue of the sky you can drink

and the ocean you can touch

with fingers that have never even been buried in sand,

fingers that haven’t even left home yet.

Hey, Sacramento, I’m willing to try

Unlike a lot of those clouds that slip by

and make out like they’re moving on to somewhere

better and less idealistic than there.

No, Sacramento, I’m a dreamer like you

and I know right now I’m a stranger to you

but I won’t be a stranger for very long

if you open my postcard and start humming this song.

Wrap me in the sunshine of the ocean view

and send me sea glass, a tiny piece of your blue

I’ll remember this promise, I swear it’s true

Hey, Sacramento, I’m coming to you