By Lani Steele
In California, even the vultures hang out,
dry their wings, cool down
stretched across fences
like so many Batmobile insignia,
trading desultory gossip:
who’s in, what’s dead, and where.
Urban coyotes drop by poolside
for a drink and a snack —
your cat, your small dog, or child —
then slip off into the chaparral to nap.
No eagle’s shadow slides over these hills,
no lions in the barranca.
In Los Osos, the bears live only on signs;
no wolves at Point Lobos.
Their enemies vanquished for them,
the carrion-eaters adjust,
slouch along fences and golf courses,
shadow the schools and malls,
waiting to inherit.
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Adam has been delivered to College Park for his junior year. Technically, he has enough credits to be a senior and could graduate this spring, but since he started out in the business school, he had first-year computer science to study as a sophomore, and now he's doing honors in both that and math, so it is going to take him at least one extra semester (which is not a problem because he has a scholarship). He spent most of the day getting his books, laundry, bike, and other things ready, with a break so we could go meet Paul for lunch at his office cafeteria.
Adam and I watched The Mummy while he packed, then Paul arrived home with Adam's high school friend Arvin, who needed a ride to College Park. We all dropped off the car because it has an appointment to be serviced tomorrow, went to Plaza Azteca for a quick dinner, stopped at Shoppers Food Warehouse so Adam could stock up for the semester, dropped Arvin off at his apartment, and took Adam to help unpack before giving him a lift to a party across campus. Now we're home with post-travel chores to finish. Here is the outside of the Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa:
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