Just when I thought I might have exorcised myself / of dreams of California / I awake in cold sweats / visions of a parking lot / as the sun sets
Raised on scenes of Hollywood / fire pits and red cups / as I clawed my way out of ice-cold ground / my heart bitter
My life has been so defined / by the cold / lack of love, lack of sun / my fingers blue / as they reach out for a mother’s hand
A stark contrast: California is without green / as a consequence of its sun / I am without leaves / for I have none
When will it end?
This perpetual uncertainty, toes dipping in ice water / and coming out frostbitten / remembering when I swam / and the water dried off my shoulders / before I grabbed my towel
I will never be exorcised, nor warm