sorry

I clear my mornings to take a watercolor class that's way up high in the Santa Cruz hills

I sit on the stool and the sunny too-blue is everywhere

And all I can paint is smoke

The elder on the walker with the funky red eyeglasses peers at my paper and asks me 

is it LA

I say no 

It’s here

I know I should be triaging

my focus is there I swear I swear

Every morning I text my friend Ari whose dad still needs to pay the mortgage on a not-there-now house

I voice memo my friend coco whose dog is peeing on everything even with the extra dog prozac they have at the evacuation shelter

I am donating I swear

And dreaming of abolition the best I can I swear

I am telling my LA clients however they’re surviving that is the exact right way to survive

And you don’t need to have survivor's guilt just for surviving I swear

Or if the guilt is protecting you from the grief and terror below it that’s ok too I swear that’s ok too

But being a therapist is a constant absurd hypocrisy

and guilt is all i breathe 

because i'm breathing happy ocean air because i'm still breathing

I’m so so so so so sorry I swear I’m so sorry

I know I need to know it’s not 2020

when we sat helpless and quarantined in a bowl of burning mountains

I’m time traveling again I’m sorry

To when I bargained with god for air my lungs wouldn't revolt against

To when my feet became ears pressed to the earth’s insides and heard

Not habitable not habitable

And I'm back in the turnstile I’m sorry of

I shouldn’t stay I shouldn’t leave I can’t stay how could I leave

Like before the rains came back

And the complacency came back

And I started snacking on the food in my go bag

I swear I walk by the river and cherish this lush fever dream we still have so much of

I bless the monarch munching on the milkweed 

I tell the hummingbird it’s ok if you fly into my nose that’s fine

And affirm to the otter buoyed belly-up that yes the sea is yours it's yours

I swear I beam everything I know of love to the kids walking home from school

especially the ones studying climate change in science class

and I swear I fall inwards when I see 

their small bodies out of step with their small faces 

like the two aren't tethered like they used to be

The elder in my watercolor class heavy-sighs

Oh your generation is so doomsday about everything

Look around

We’re five hours away from LA

Don’t you want to paint something beautiful?

I answer

Yes

That’s true

You’re right

I’m sorry