Come one Come all

They are coming. 

My most beloved friends. 

With plump cars and peanut butter they disturb the desert night with high beams. 

Slowly their clocks begin to read my time and the fears that beat in their throats will soon be soothed by the smell of ocean and the California poppy. 

I await them. 

Eager with empathy. 

I will cradle them in my Hollywood Bungalow and we will smoke and talk our throats raw on my roof. 

They mirror my bravery and I want nothing more then to plant them. 

Deep roots in my world still shaky on its own.

We will explore the canyons and unleash our budding charisma on these hills unknown by us.

Weaving stories our children will proudly tell their peers and building calluses on our soft baby skin. 

Anticipating what make most cringe and selfishly devouring all that is presented. 

Come December our families will peek their curious heads from the Bluegrass and request our return. 

We will gather pennies for a two way ticket.

From this time forward. A two way ticket.