Sacramento Poem by Maya Hanson

Searching for a way to Sacramento
Leaving these dark east clouds behind
Because maybe this way they'll remember me,
caught under the waves,
asleep in the sand,
a writer on a park bench under a palm tree.

Pros and cons, back and forth
Weddings and funerals
as the hourglass of the storm ticks away
All I can think, all I can dream
is maybe in Sacramento it's blue
Maybe they see the light of day.

But not this blue,
the view of the rain clouds and the puddles and my chest and my veins that struggle to wake up every morning.
I poke them.
I have to remind them, order them around so they pump my blood and keep me from turning into one of those empty body suits on the street over there, straining against a gray concrete existence.

No, not this blue.
The blue of the sky you can drink
and the ocean you can touch
with fingers that have never even been buried in sand,
fingers that haven't even left home yet.

Hey, Sacramento, I'm willing to try
Unlike a lot of those clouds that slip by
and make out like they're moving on to somewhere
better and less idealistic than there.

No, Sacramento, I'm a dreamer like you
and I know right now I'm a stranger to you
but I won't be a stranger for very long
if you open my postcard and start humming this song.

Wrap me in the sunshine of the ocean view
and send me sea glass, a tiny piece of your blue
I'll remember this promise, I swear it's true
Hey, Sacramento, I'm coming to you