On the Job
Today I slept, woke up, slept. It’s 75 degrees in the middle of damn February and I don’t think I’ve ever had a President’s Day off before, ever. What a country.
So, has the californication of your poetry begun?
Scar tissue that I wish you saw…
(that song just popped into my head/mouth as I asked the question above)
With the birds I’ll share this lonely view.
And you.
Mmm, I feel pretty much like a vagrant. Just trying to take it all in for now. The poems will come later I think. Miss my family 
Sounds like a horribly complicated life you have going on there.