chromecast

sometimes I see downtown San Francisco
on the tv, screensaver saving a life
past brief hallucination that I once
lived between.

sometimes I wonder if i was there already
in the sea of lights it shows, somewhere
to the west of east bay on the coast,
looking East, because it will always
matter which direction
you mean to go, even if the road
shifts under your feet.

maybe we can put the windows down,
let our palms out tracing
the patterns that we’d like to see.

until then I’ll pour another out of swampland,
in my homeland;
leave the window cracked;
it’s you.