Dear Los Angeles,
Your cool moist morning air fills my nostrils. Caresses my neck, shoulders. I have missed you. The desert sucked my sweet moisture - teeth on an orange slice. Tested me with rain and dust storms and peeled back the layers of my hurt. Coaxed my pores to open and sweat. And then kissed that salty water away with sunset winds.
Always though, I return to your tarmac. Those black ribbons I drive on. Blue morning sky. Spring green in September. Grey pavement under my feet. I've missed all the neighbors I hello on the dog walk. Never mind that they don't speak a word of English.
Back in my pod. In my nest. In your beloved metaphorical arms. A tiny human amongst your 4 million. You won't miss me when I'm gone. But that's ok. My love depends not on you - whether you know I exist - or feel the unconditional passion of my heart. My love is for me. Something to love - unconditionally. A love that forms the well for all others to be ladled. My destiny braided through your streets and freeways in a mobius cat's cradle extending deep into the unknown.
When I leave this earth, I will take a piece of you. And I will leave a piece of myself. Perhaps there will be little difference.
Until that moment, I will dance in this caldron of human experience.
xxx
Your forever Angelino
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