California

If I were to come
to California,
it’s only with the hope of
finding you.

I found myself, years ago, on a plane
to Tallahassee,
leaving behind life for a day
without snowfall.
I needed to be warm, and I walked
in damp sand that crusted my toes,
turning chalky and white in the noonday heat.

The warmth lasted as long as
the sun
fading quickly like color from the sky
at sunset,
hanging around just long enough
for that last glorious gaze.

I left him behind, and him,
and him, knowing only the him
that’s you
could bring the kind of warmth needed
to sustain me
through the darkness inside me.

So I take that flight back
from Tallahassee to Atlanta
to pick up a connection
to you.
Oh, I know you won’t be waiting
with a sign
that bears my name, a name you’ve never uttered.
But I never fail to believe you’ll see me
and there will be recognition in
your expression when you smile and finally
ask me
who I am.