Nathaniel T. Hughes

Pacific time eagerly chasing me; old westerly ways battling barefoot, a stand-still eastern jive. So, here's to unconvincing June gloom, creeping chilly night fog, and all of its electrical line tunes - the Santa Anna winds on empty Canerry Row streets, smells of ocean and sounds of seals, all the promises I forget I made. I still miss foggy nights and a chilled-red face, but I can't stop this traveling; I'm overly anxious, in an easterly way.

-Not to sound trite...  But I miss you. It has been like three life times and another summer is passing, another life being written, in-between  mountains and city buildings.

Through the vicissitudes, I go onward from here, full-bright-moon-night tugging at smiling ebbs of life: Yes, I must be fine.