A Long Beach garden


The Long Beach dew

turns Valley steam

before your heart

warms up

as this

one inside my chest


The Long Beach dew

is green

like those sharp hills

that guard Alaska

The calm white skies

of June

and the full bloom

of ancient trees

As I drive

cross the valleys

the Getty’s hill

Hollywood streets

unnoticed by the

Californian eyes

my mind does smile:

Something belongs to me

in Argentina

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