It is nearly the proper end of one of my eras, living in Sacramento, in this apartment, on this street.
And soon, I’ll be leaving for good.
The future isn’t clear but it is visible. I see shit in the trees in the distance.
Troubles yet to come? Possibly.
Revelations that inspire me to my own personal greatness? Perhaps.
I’ve lived here and loved the monster, lived here during a global pandemic, lived here with forest fires on the horizon, lived here when I fucked a French man, a Ukranian, a Peruvian, a Mexican or two, and nobody over 35…
and soon I will be, the me who was she who resided here will be, a memory
faded into the conquered column…
which is strange because in the 3 years as a resident I only ever visited the Crocker Art Museum
and fell in love with so much art, as I am want to do
but now it is time to decide what to do with my 7ft Darth Vader, Kal El and Michelangelo’s David Cardboard cut outs
and I feel like
David is probably coming with me-
I hope everyone here I have ever known is happy
I hope everyone I ever kissed is at peace
I hope what is ahead of me is exciting and character building
and I hope I continually fall deeper and deeper into love with me…