My Bantam Town

By Blake More

My California lives on Highway One,

where the water beckons but doesn’t let many in
It is a place where people gather on beaches anyway
bring drums, make fires,
sing to the loom of moon
as it fill our eyes with light

My California dreams tiny cafe’s
with locals sitting at little wooden tables
lamenting or celebrating their harvests

debating the latest thing they are powerless over

yet loving each other anyway

Here in my California
the streets are two lane and winding

they flurry
Wednesday through Sunday
morning tourists looking for that famous bakery
3:30 families stopping for mail, library books,

mango boba tea on their way home from school

Here in my California, the houses are spread out
acres and dirt roads between neighbors

gardens and apple trees,
dogs, almost too many dogs
keeping the mountain lions from eating the chickens
before we do

My California sings
of third Monday music at the Arena Theater
locals finding their voice in a vaudevillian wonderland

first time, all the time, sometimes in time, sometimes not

where notes of Dave Brubeck,
Richie Havens, George Winston
still linger on the keys
My California wants to eliminate backbitting gossip
people feeling better because another feels bad

In the future, my California looks like it does now
only with more room to explore our differences
teach each other how to listen

so we can join together
recognize corruption

My California wraps me in stars

a blanket I found by lucky accident
its milky way following me
every time I leave
enticing me back
to where I belong