Once there was a city here or I forget what that means.

My body is preparing itself     for California.

Physical distance is a kind of purifying pain

jasmine and urine     a kind of sickened longing.

What if I said no place is a place for being okay

in the world.        When I lay down drunk I’m in every city.

The spooky fuck of nostalgia and     I forget.

My body is preparing itself for California.

And I am full of america.        Those folded mountains

sleeping skin and hair.        Weird peace in the rumpled hills.

Earthquake shoves our house    and we shove back. High

and sighing in     over the roofs and all the wrong trees

fog is a salve for all the lost words.        Yes

I am straight with the kush