Santa Cruz: A Neverlasting Sentimental Tale
The distant land above the city provides such elegance.
What is the ingredient for such romantic modernism that ends in reality?
$27,000 a year
2 teaspoons of Hidden artifacts and numerous journeys
1 bucket of hemp
1 ton of laughter
½ tons of obstacles
The entire contents of my heart
You
All contents should be accounted for.
When I wish for such a temporary vision, I begin the mix.
Thrown into a blender that flows and stains the counters.
I lay my head across the concoction
and soak up its heavy earthy residue with a smile.
The thoughts of scenery pour into my head,
but your face remains the prior scope.
The tarnished stains embedded in my mind brings
wondrous, yet fragile and unnerving thoughts I've never before possessed:
Walks in the dark through the insomnic nights
have never brought us closer
to the truth of our primitive origin, or the beauty of such a delicate world.
The bench stands steady, inviting as we fumble
down the path through the dark.
Astonishing images pass as we look out,
your arm closing tight around my shoulder.
The sun is rising and a new day beginning.
Lights shine and sparkle below the cliff from the morning schedule of society.
That glint catches your eyes that forever leave me dazzled
at the livelihood in Santa Cruz, but it's danger as well.
The breeze blows my hair in your face,
but we laugh at the forest's delights and its trails at matchmaking.
Perhaps this is what I love most about Santa Cruz,
the effective way it places a smile within the depths of my heart
that only surfaces when you are present
within this vast forest of freedom.
We stay inhabited above within this gentle world while we look
below at society.
I frown when I think of joining the enlightenment-
the truth we come to face, not as creatures, but humans,
is never quite as delicate. Not like it is here.
If only we could never part
from the forest, but society is like a kitkat and only allows breaks
from responsibility, from the “real world”—not the magical eternity I pictured.
If only there was no other world we could return to,
I'd know that I'd spend it with you here, in green.
Santa Cruz means hardly anything without you to share our love
of sights and sounds presented in this rendition of Eden's Garden.
But like all good things, they end.
Abruptly.
And so will we,
living in Santa Cruz, that is.
But not this poem. No. I have little more to say.
To be thrust and left alone will be a bitch.
Santa Cruz, dont let that hussy knock me down.
Don't leave me to be abandoned.
Dont pass by so quickly. Remind me to look in his eyes.
And together, we'll look through our eyes down upon those critters who blow
over to the great girth of society's penis.
We'll sit atop this hill and glance beyond we don't yet understand.
I never wish to join them if I have to leave this green, this life, those glittering eyes,
and that smile hanging soulfully from your lips.
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