27 Apr

I drive by where they hold you.  Your campus resembles a business park—concrete cubes sporting thin vertical windows.  Glass ink black, yet I can see my car passing through.  You’re tucked in the Theo Lacy wing.  Grounds boast resort-green lawns, eucalyptus, roses in raised beds. Image

Across the street, the ash trees bend.  Hydrants are milky-white.  Chain-wire fences enclose a field with blue end zones.  Goal posts the color of hydrants.  Remember your touchdown in the big game?  The cheerleaders loved you. 

I hang a left and head back to the freeway.  Clouds kill the sun.  Shadows roll over the forgotten and tumble into the sea.      

—Kirby Wright


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