Last Week We Slept in Hollywood

Last week we slept in Hollywood
returning to our former reality
a California dreamin'
so changed in just two
years the grandsons grown
beyond blooming Sam still
full of hugs and warm cuddles
wrenching our hearts that leave him too soon

my Micah feels at home here and i
still find it foreign the filth
on the streets the never silence
lights blaring everywhere blurting
out building size ads for movies
and their stars angry voices screaming
in the night cars always congesting their
way to the same place at the same time
mitigated by the joy of many colors and cultures
i hear the music of a dozen languages on her streets
and taste China and Lebanon and Thailand 
exquisite and straight from their mother lands

Maine is the dream now her crimson leaves
have fallen our ties there severed the lake
cottage home becoming the memory now
cramming everything into this 27 foot camper
we return and wait for home in these Colorado mountains stranger
than L.A. we bear the scent of recently landed immigrants 
barely knowing the language our family spread
and already occupied again pilgrims in our own
land trying still to put the scattered pieces
into some linked puzzle of this modern migration searching
for place for a stake pounded in for a fence of community
wandering always visitors to our scattered loved one who
like stars in the Milky Way make the never ending path we travel.
  






 

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