Letters from the Coast

Living as you do in California , I'm not surprised
to read you've fallen for the partly cloudy girl and her overcast eyes.
She flashed your life like lightning, left you blind-struck, deaf-sided
tingling from all the extremities you never realized you had until

the moment her smile catching yours
held captivated across a smoke-filled room.

You told me that the taste of success never rested easily
in the corners of your mouth,
rather left behind a coppery flavor not entirely unlike fear.
How you'd swallowed it deep , washed down with hard liquor
and soft lies telling yourself that soon,
the burning days would end-- and by night

rain would soak through you like communion,
rehydrating everything.

I never understood your forecasts, living here
where bright light is a cherished rare metaphor.
But as you so thoughtfully reminded me
in our last correspondence

someone has to love the sun.