I felt the paint peel under my hands
As I looked far past the balcony.
Lights from long beach,
Spread to the lights of
Anaheim,
Los Angeles.
I tried to see the Queen Mary
Behind the big round tree,
Its leaves moved in my view.
Their purpose was to make me mad.
Oil rigs drink the oil from the hill,
In the middle of nowhere,
Near the condos.
You could see fireworks. Sat on
The hillside. Saw people gather
From all over. They danced on cars,
Smashed beer cans in peoples faces.
I got them good though. Aiming
My laser pen at their heads,
As I watched them scatter.
The cops came. I sat quietly,
While my brother took the blame.
I laughed,
Silently.
I was only ten. That was years ago.
I walked up to the wobbly rail,
Examined my surroundings.
The cities don’t glitter as much,
Too many houses in the way.
Walked down the streets
No more hillsides.
They’re covered in mansions,
Brown, white,
With little pools filled with rich
children
Only from Disneyland
The fireworks are seen
But behind the condo,
Away from the balcony.
The oil rigs decreased in number
Yet one sat in front of me,
It still sucked from its straw.
I looked towards the Queen Mary,
Its smoke pipes gleamed in the
moonlight,
As it sat by the green submarine,
Sleeping away the years.
Nice poem:) Love your beach photo too.
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