Beckworth

Beckworth 

She doesn't miss the big sky

in her dreams of California,

or small town Americana,

Pink Houses, or long sad songs.

She finds herself in leather

by the chain

and the whip;

pouty lips and band shirts,

Miller lite, Lucky Strikes,

Iggy Pop and The Sex Pistols,

new tattoos, a piercing or two,

sitting on a wall

in Hollywood

holding hands with a girl

she only knows from the 

screen of her TOSHIBA laptop!

Take a breath!

Let it out...

And she is excited

and smiling

as hard as she can,

turning to the girl beside her

who's been looking at her the whole time,

THE WHOLE TIME

and they laugh after they share their first kiss

and tug on the lock and key

around their necks

looking down Sunset

for a score,

looking down Vine 

for a taxi and a taco truck!

Working it out in her pink

Chuck Taylors

wiping the Sriracha from her 

girlfriends face,

it really didn't matter

that they had to steal

the Cold Duck

and the Rolling Rock,

it's her dream,

she can do what she wants!

And she doesn't ever want to see

the Sun come up,

she never wants to wake up.

Under that big sky.

Again.