I live on a cul-de-sac
For every driver who loses himself among the palm trees,
there is a long, slow circle
of watchful eyes to parade before
escaping into the anonymous desert

The mountain rises proud
young and tumbled
all messy volcanic rock
and memories of erosion
blocking the evening sun
and bring the stars above earlier

It is a dead end
a silent corner
tucked away from the world
in the middle of the sleepy city
a quiet space
for my hurried footfalls
racing before the sunrise

A tiny bit of wild
in the middle of civilization
coyotes and a juice bar
hiking and the movie theatre
contrasts

To teach me how to live – Caroline A. Slee