for a ride

in the old days

i could leave

my front door,

open and close a rickety gate

walk up a quarter of 

my empty sidewalk street

crossing speedway

then ocean front walk

to the sand…

it was always there,

that graying pacific

with a mile of sand

between my burning feet

and its tar-filled shores…

it was a relief

living  ‘at the beach’

you could keep your secrets

better there…


these days

to find solace in

that same sea,

i leave my front door

 get in the old purple RAV

and drive across

rolling hills filled with grapevines

stacked in greedy rows

like handy hundred dollar bills…

these  tombstones sit


on ridges where apple blossoms

once gracefully fell

across a different  landscape…


this sea is a different


in the north

getting there requires more of  an effort

and you must be prepared …

its a half hour’s time


an energy expending


out of a lazy woman’s

insignificant time…


the LA coffee mug

from those venice mornings

lays cracked  somewhere else now

the animals who followed

at my side each morning

as i left my door for this walk

are long dead and gone

buried with memories

worth nothing except to me..


so today the sea calls

its a cold wind blowing out there

but, i’m wise now to its ways

 how it simultaneously slaps

and caresses your face

with its ferocity

if you aren’t prepared…


 a foggy layer sits

on top of clouds

fat with moisture…

instead of a sun-drenched

 film of quiet brown LA smog

this, today,  this coast

will surely soak me

if i’m not prepared…


ive needed this

a chorus of waves

to crash and pound

these voices out of my head

i’ve needed to walk on shores

accepting the silence’s offer

to drum this bitterness out of me

while inhaling a different,


and better strength

into me…









About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i release the gamut of tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
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