How to Change Your Mind in Oakland

From your peripheral
you become aware
of a new grey hair,
and notice your eyebrows have set
slightly lower since the last time you
checked yourself for
existential inevitabilities.

You’ve grown concerned
about the world, referring to it as duplicitous after misordering
kimchi
at what was
SUPPOSED TO BE
a Japanese fried-chicken restaurant—
(you didn’t know).

Dreading that last sip of Daiginjo,
you hold on to
the city of Oakland
for as long as it will stay
and you ask it to
wait for you
while you outphase
old thought patterns,
and replace support networks
through an ongoing loop
of associations and disassociations.

Well, my friend, even the saké
eventually spoils. You see a wedding photograph of a former lover and
immediately dream of going
Back to Asia to hide
for a few years.

Then, the November air sets in,
reminding you that
another year is about to close.
Another cousin’s overdose.
Your mother calls
and asks you
Where you been?
Says poor Aunt Anna’s
been wanderin.

The woods are on fire
and there you are

eating your way across the bay,
swirling wine in Marin,
drinking sparkling Americanos,
dancing all night at power stations,
laughing your lungs full of cool air,
saying “life could not be any better.”