Georgia, you have flown free
no longer caged on Brockton Avenue
the white room where you passed
the midday meal with Kenneth
i carry the fondest memories
my favorite chili stand down the street
on Santa Monica Blvd
her dimes from the laundry room
my tickets to the beach aboard the Blue Bus
long before Morrison was to sing about
she was my heroine in so many things
mostly she was a mirror of my mother

i miss my savant aunt
those trips to Goody Goody's
where the waitresses skated over 
to retrieve our orders
the milkshake and cheeseburgers
no pickles
she owned apartments
i had my own for the summer
our last telephone conversation
chase your dreams son
i flew out to Washington, onto Canada
then with the geese to Mexico

our Angelena escaped on a day
it had not rained for one hundred years
i am happy she is free
lament i had not more time with her
and wonder if in those heavens
if Kenneth has given up the pipe
forever tinkering and inventing
not very likely

we live without wings
until that moment the eyes close
and in that gentle breeze
wings unfold
we are free


         Playa Hermosa   91
for Georgia and Kenneth McClure