SRPTEMBER FREEFORM

Tattoos of Place

In the ink of my memory, Los Angeles sprawls, 
Sunset poluted red, where palm trees stand black against it, 
A canvas of dreams, where the deep teal ocean meets sky, 

My favorite gardens climbing the hills, orange poppies, and magenta bougainvillea,

Fig trees, pomegranates, palms along the streets.

Cats mouse the studios where reel after reel lays deep in the ground.
Each tattoo a tale, each scar a goodbye.

Portland calls softly, through mist and through rain, 
With bridges like arms, embracing the pain, 
Tattooed on my heart, the scent of the pines, green against grey 
A brew of the past in the coffeehouse lines, wooden roses and slug slime.

Denver, my heartbeat, where mountains touch brilliant blues, 
The Rockies are giants sitting on the edge of a bowl, in a bold, rugged hue, 
A tattoo of purple majesty, the sweet Palisade Peaches, breath crisp and clear, 
This place I was born is covered in red stone
Stories of my family lay in green parks and school rooms where we learned to be cool.

Edinburg’s road to flat Pat burgers, Tex-Mexjalapeños  — stomped boots!
Stars on a hot night ride in the back of a pick-up. The ice in a cup of milk.
Citrus picked, peeled and eaten on the spot, deep laughter and flooded lawns.
Tattoos of long horns and roses, each lines helps me feel whole.

Together they form a map on my skin, 
A journey through places, the places I’ve been, 
With tattoos of cities and towns, of laughter and tears, 
Drawing my story across all the years.