Wake Up And You Forget

Eyes open to hills. Sun cascading down the steep grade transformed by trees into shadows along the way. Sun staring straight down at me, back burned being pushed ever forward. Sun, falling behind as the miles pass away, dying always abandoned and forgotten, unburied - every mile must often die, their passing marked with numerical epitaph, recording no birth, only infinite death. Sun taming clouds, wrangling sky, taking time, tiredly awaiting sleep this side of the horizon as a twin sun rises above the other. Soon these hills will become Los Angeles and time will seem an impossible thing as geography gives up and all barriers concede, a crumbling under a whim, a wind that blew letters westward. In the corner of my eye, the east reaches out a cool hand, waits for me to turn around. "Just a moment", I say as the sun finally rests its emptied self onto blanket of water. Empties orange thoughts yellow sparkling onto sumblime surface so that finally, without hope for another, this day may end, given wholly without malice or regret to a night which may never end. If the moon, in her mercy, allows, we will awaken someday with the sun, and there will be hills again.

- Los Angeles