A place called home
I parked up on the top of the hill on Vista. Uncomfortable. Too close to the homes. It’s a dream up here. I went school right there at the bottom of the bluff. Skateboarded all the streets and driveways. The singer from the Vandals lives under the flame red tree. We played together in Falling Idols. I dream of a home like these. Instead I’m worried someone will call the cops on me.
Not well. No notatall.
It’s 3:03 am
No thing to look forward to.
I wish you well, my friend.
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