A poem in honour of my trip to California…
Took a long time to get to California
Eleven hours on a jet plane.
When we arrived
I ran through the spring rain.
Took a detour down ol’ Skid Row
Sad souls in sorry states
Not somewhere you’d want to go.
Headed North on Route One
Sunsets, seals, the wild ocean.
Skipped down the boardwalk pier;
More burritos, another beer.
Time for San Fran’s Golden Gate
But it’s shrouded in mist,
Guess we got here too late.
No wonder they’re proud
Of Yosemite Falls,
Towering above, deafeningly loud.
Now through the desert,
Death Valley’s road
Stock up on gas, you’ll need a load.
Vegas was a sham, came home broke.
The table was rigged
Or too much rum and coke?
Onwards to boho Venice Beach,
Soya latte in hand.
As the sun sets on California
This distant land.
A bad poem about my recent road trip to California, where we drove up High Way One from Los Angeles to San Fran, through Yosemite, Death Valley, Vegas and then back to LA. The thing that struck me, aside from the amazing landscape, was a kind of emptiness to Los Angeles. It is a place where you can get anything you want (if you have money). An extreme example of consumerism coated in a thick layer of superficial human interaction that is very hard to break through. Or maybe that’s just me. Either way, I enjoyed my California road trippin’ and found plenty of cool little towns straight out of the Wild West and filmic roadside locations off the beaten track.