Turning My Back

I have been staying out late every night and navigating home by the light of stars and bridges. This feels continental and young, my body is tighetning and shifting back into old jackets.
I roll back my office chair and examine the Golden Gate from my 31st story window. It is red, as always, and it comforts me to know how the ocean smells.
I miss my home of fires and earthquakes and all-night taco stands, I miss the glittering Los Angeles harlot and her smoking hills of mansions, I miss the tacky splendor of the Disneyland freeway with orleander blossoms poking through the cinder block dividers. That will always be where my heart is, I have learned that now, and even though I may be passionately in love with San Francisco but I do crave my valley down south.