I was born amongst
neon lights and
bristling palm trees
on the scorching, receding beach line.

I am my mother's only one.

Several years spent
in garages rented out
by owners who felt sympathy
for my mother and father.

Many miles roaming,
sleeping in the backseat of cars
against my father's body -
all 125 pounds of him.

I am my father's newfound drug.

My mother and father
would take me back
to the receding beach line
while my mother weeps softly
and my dad smokes his last cigarette.

I am a life worth reverence.