(The 5 & 405 freeway merge south of Los Angeles)
As Oz disappears from your rearview
beyond the giant asphalt merge
comic book chaos and cold cash relents
and the real California dream
awakens.
The sky rediscovers its blue, unclenching fists of
clouds melting into the sun.
South of the 405 California remembers its roots
and everything tastes better with salsa.
You can lose all track of time
and never be late for anything.
Freeways fly and bend, losing all perspective
bridging entire mountains of dust.
Sunsets hang somehow longer
suspended over the Pacific
day seducing night
sinking slowly, sizzling and wet.
Somewhere between Laguna and Mexico
with the windows down and the West streaming in
destination becomes irrelevant
for I am home.
Lori Boulard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/somewhere-south-of-the-y/
