california is happiness.

california poppies
racing by my window
almost as if
they are running
from me.
an exodus of clouds
looming from the west
hanging over the hills
as if
they are waiting
for me.
sun rise
sun.
this isn't making sense.
since when
does california
make sense.
since when
does having my hips
pushed and shoved
by the california breeze
mean that i'm
weak
shallow
willing?
white envelopes my feet
chest
my body.
and california's sun
rises and sets
on my california poppies.