Jesusita Fire

watching thick white plumes,
a wound, not blood, steaming smoke
pouring off our mountains

driving, embers fly
cold fear, following fire trucks
thoughts of family

sun bright orange from fire
30,000 evacuated
smoke clouds, like a storm

Tea Fire

I called him, "There's a big fire in the canyon, will you come over?"
He said, "Yeah, I can't see it from here. I'm on my way."
Flames leaping
from where I was
leaping from across the canyon
taller than me, wind rising them higher
higher and spreading over, into the canyon
hungry
Fear creaping into my breathing
If they were that tall, how tall were they?
they must be 70 ft. high flames with wind blowing across them
later, on the news, they were that tall
watching, helpless, waiting for him to come
I heard his voice first, "Where is she?" he asked
he slid open the glass door, into wind and backyard

walking up steep stone steps to where I was frozen
glued to the flames, worrying
my friends were up there in that canyon
He reached me, circled his arms about my waist
even though we were friends, it felt warm, good, safe
we watched in silence for a moment
"I'd better go," he said, nervously.
"What?" I asked, shocked
"I didn't know it was so close..." he said calmly, "I might need to evacuate."
I was shocked, instead of the warmth of his arms holding me safe,
instead of relief, I saw him heading toward those flames,
flames leaping stories high
I couldn't let him go alone. I had to help,
yet, fear and wanting safety, away from flames, overpowering
I saw myself waiting, crazy with worry,
it would be worse, here, safe, terrified
"I'm coming with you," I said with conviction.
"Let's go," he replied. Immediate. No hesitation.
I called my girlfriend. "We're evacuating now," she shouted into the phone. Click.
At least she was going to be safe...I hope
We got flashlight batteries at 711. It was eerie.

We got to his place. Thick with smoke, like you couldn't breathe.
The neighbors were already loading their cars.
I watched neighbors scurry to the top of the driveway,
converge, and talk, looking for the fire
you couldn't see it yet, you could smell it
it was on everyone, thick and heavy
burning at your lungs
sheriffs drove through, yelling through their bull horn
"This is a mandatory evacuation."
Some of the neighbors were old,
"Don't ask me," she said in her thick Italian.
"I woke up, you have to leave, they told me, so I'm leaving."
we went back inside
"We have to take the guitar," I said, unplugging it.
"These are just things. They're replaceable," he said.
"Let's just get you out of here."
I felt a little better, feeling valuable.
He wanted the nicknacks,
the little blue smurf his ex had given him in Spain
I carried, carefully to the car, porcelain from Prague
all of his travels, memories in little tiny things.
The sheriff drove by yelling out of a bullhorn.
"This is a mandatory evacuation. You need to evacuate now."
They drove through. Talked to people. Kept driving.
I was so nervous.
"This is so silly," he said.
"It feels weird, to move everything out and then
have to move it back in...
that would be the best of all outcomes, though."
We got back to my parents late that night, the car filled with his stuff.
He woke up early the next morning and drove over to check on things.
The next day I was told I had the day off. I was exhausted.

A few days later, we hauled all his stuff back in.
Rehung the paintings,
instruments from Jamaica back on the wall...
This was the best plausible outcome,
being able to move back in a few days later.
"It seems kind of silly, moving out, moving back in," he said.
200 homes burnt in the Tea Fire
It's been months now,
my girlfriend is living in a hotel with 3 boys and a dog.
3 boys who desperately need a home and have no money.
The insurance has refused to pay the hotel bill...
every day she drags her feet across the lobby,
embarrassed she can't pay the bill.
I worry. I try to take her son out on the weekends...
I try to make him happy in a world that has
turned instantly upside down...
if I had the money I would give it to her...
but I don't so, I give her my time.

Fog

I watched fog drifting in towards us
Big blue mountains in the background
with fog whisping in waves
big solid white waves
cover ghost oil platforms
as if they were live ships
drift across the ocean
hovering, waiting to move in like a predator
cumin, rich Indian spices floating up the canyon
reminding me of childhood and incense and the 60's
I looked at the Spanish tile adobe
which house, which million dollar house had a wife from India
with spices that floated up through the canyon?

Ageing

problems, his father walked away
I listened to my son
he waited and wanted

I tried to fix them
on my own
I could feel years
years fall into wrinkles around my eyes

Packaging Matters

I fell asleep, my window open
I wrapped the lavendar hand knit blanket my mam-maw made around me
I buried myself

I opened my eyes to cold October air
as cold as I was awake
coldness opened my eyes

At the coffee shop I noticed
Beautifully wrapped sugar colored witch lollipops
Halloween coffins with edible skeletons inside
all this American packaging felt like my mam-maw's blanket
something I know

I noticed the books I designed
how different it was twenty years ago
how you could slap headlines on with glue
a little crooked
glue individual letters, spaced a little uneven
Now, my programs were mathematically precise

I noticed how perfect the witch was,
bright sugar enameled details on her clothes,
little pink buttons
green eyes
glaring purple hat
sharp, crisp, clear
even in sugar you could see
how important it is to look purrrfeccctttt...
is this only an Americanism?

French Au Pair

I walked into the kitchen
early afternoon
she was wearing
a short grey nightshirt
an expensive one that tucked in ribbons at the bottom

She was young,
not older than twenty
visiting from France,

I watched soap suds
drain from sink
I watched her do dishes
I watched her bare legs
as if they were some extension of herself
into the world of showing
not caring
wanting
a catwalk of showing off,
I heard her laughing on the phone to her boyfriend
Did he care?

I wondered how
why
I tried to remember a time when
I didn't mind doing dishes in a short grey t-shirt

I have grown so self-conscious
She seemed, as a European, to be so much more open
than me, an American
I wondered why they were so open
why we were so closed?

Blue & 500 miles ahead

He had to change jobs
He was moving, leaving her
Cold wind growing


Curled up in the car
you ask tentatively, "What's wrong?"
She shudders a little
watching rain come down on your windshield
wet, soft
driving past garish skeletons
Halloween set ups in the front yard
She shudders thinking of you leaving
heart wrenching agony that comes with it

You were talking about moving
leaving
word flashed again like
nightmare skeletons in the yard
leaving, mixed with past flashbacks
flashes of how much it hurt
every time someone close left
It's hard to make it in this town
cold wind growing
gnawing into dread

leaving
when you move to another city to get a better job
She's missing you terribly already
She's trying to imagine how she'll feel when your gone
She try's to tell herself,
"You were never here in the first place..."
You never changed your phone number to 805
She feels like something's missing...

How you felt when she wasn't there
at the movie theater last week,
You told her,
"something's missing"
She's trying so hard not to see how much she'll miss you
how attached she's become