Maybe in twenty years I’ll come back to this place-
this beautiful tourist city-
Maybe I’ll come from the north
Berkeley, San Jose, maybe even Chico
drive down 101
take the Milpas St. exit
There won’t be any construction
and I’ll drive past Trader Joe’s, past Winchell’s Donuts,
and maybe I’ll tell my kids “There’s Superica, best horchata anywhere.”
I’ll turn up Ortega St.
and drive past all the houses with their roses and guard dogs
to the sideways house with the white picket fence.
I’ll drive fast up the long narrow driveway
just like Mom,
and Grandma Nancy and Grandpa Alan will come out to meet us
just like Mom’s parents used to do
and we’ll go inside and eat bagels with lox and cream cheese
from Jack’s Bagels down the street
and maybe I’ll say, “I forgot how cold this house is,”
and maybe I’ll say, “This house is just as cold as I remember,”
and maybe we’ll all laugh.
And maybe we’ll go to the rose garden
or maybe the beach,
and then we’ll drive back north-
to San Jose, or Berkeley, or maybe even Chico,
and maybe I’ll write poetry about growing up
in this beautiful tourist city-
this place.