We walked the length of the tributary in the Simi hills tonight.
timid lulls of filthy water lap against the rims of our shoes
as we trudge under a dilapidating sun that breathes heavy over the
San Fernando Valley.
It is too warm for jackets so we trudge side by side decorated with
summer regalia, the wind is hot for September and I watch as you
soak the sweat from your brow on a green bandanna.
As we approach highway 134 you stop and turn into the setting sun
the blue of your eyes lights up the green rim around an olive pupil
and you smile that deep, voracious grin that throws me into
an almost sleep like daydream.
and in this moment, with the palms swaying in the distance and the cry of the Northern fulmar straying too far from the beach,
I decide I would go anywhere with you
even if the sun never came out to push me to this place.