California Summers

California was my second home. I had some very fond memories going there. I had relatives that lived on signal hill. It was a pretty cool place. You could see the ocean and if you had binoculars you could see the Hollywood sign. The best place to stay in long beach was my uncles condo. I wrote a poem about the place in high school when I found out my uncle was moving. I felt like I needed to immortalize my second home.

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.