i wake up this morning to find my midnightblue car splattered in white paint
or is it snow
?
tiny white dots
like powdered sugar on a chocolatecarcake
i touch them
and am momentarily inclined to lick my finger
-
all that remains of ten thousand trees
charred white confetti
launched from the tinderbox heart of Los Angeles
down of Angels feathers
40 miles enroute
to find me
the whole county is covered
in the scales of our history
the antithesis of a blanket of snow
the antithesis of the symbol confetti
my lungs are having a pity party
my psyche is tinged
with the scorch of a mother’s sorrow
