For Krystal

Look at that smile, been a while since it had last been seen. Had to hop off the wheel. So we swapped one coast for another — left the kids with your mother and bid a fond fair well to the Atlantic.

Flew three thousand miles to walk ten more, a tour of the shore from from Santa Monica to Venice. Palm green against royal blue and a tap room with a view. A sip, a breath, a sigh, adjust our watches to California time, cast our shoes aside along with the tension in our thighs. And I look into those eyes…

Look at those eyes reflecting Pacific shine, witnessing west coast sunset for the first time. From LA to Pismo, no plans but our own. Chrysanthemum and marigolds, a boardwalk light show, and a pub that feels like home. Coastal hills lean over our necks for one last trek down to the crashing before waving adieu and scooting off to Frisco.

Those eyes, navigating the miles, myself too dizzy from the heights. Your shaded eyes on the road, while mine framed photos of the Salinas, from the Diablos to the Santa Lucias. King City coffee and we’re back on track. I take your hand and we plan — a ranch on a distant, sun-tanned slope — adrift in our hope, unbound, unwound, and the sound of my right hand catching air outside the window. 

And, oh my, San Francisco, from Golden Gate to east-side towers, to Lombard flowers. Omelettes on Mason, cocktails on Union, you in the wrong shoes for exploring the hilltops, but that didn’t stop you. Toes aching, soles breaking, two souls ascending Telegraph Hill and, oh God, what a site: the Bay, the mountain angles, and my arm ‘round an angel. Then down to the wharf, to the pier where I meet you again for the first time. I take your picture, that smile a permanent fixture as we pass like ghosts down the Sunday silent city streets. Lunch in the grass while cumulus pass, gather looming, misty gray. And we run in the rain, no complaints, cuz ain’t nothin’ wrong, anyways. Dry up, curl up in a California king, next to my queen, no space in between cuz ain’t no need for space, anyways. 

And now we’re back to a twin, back to the grind, a sunrise ahead, left sunsets behind. But I take out this picture and I’m transported through time, back ‘cross the miles by those eyes and that smile, reminded of how I found you on that pier, determined, now, to find you every new dawn hereafter.