Marc Katz

Good Afternoon

Half a Block East of Brookhurst by Adriana Campoy

Praise for swept dirt and mustard flowers, coastal sage and sun-warmed concrete,
the garage door that creaks and whirs as it closes. Praise for withered palm
fronds piled under the tree’s crown, spurts of steam from the rice cooker,
long shadows of branches on the garden wall. Solace wafts over the balcony railing
like a song from a passing car. You don’t know it, really, but when it fades you
sound out the rest using muscle memory. Praise for paper wind spinners, for milkweed,
for empty parking lots. For the gables of other people’s houses. Praise for the traces
of jasmine blossom and fried tortillas carried on the day’s exhale. For the coat
of pollen on the gate. The clean, black ovals where you gripped the latch, opened it.