I thought you couldn’t be sad in California.
I thought the sun and sand forbade it:
No Shirt No Shoes No Service No Sadness.


Blue is only the colour of pretty things
and I thought the waves must keep watch carefully,
nip at the feet of those who dare complain.


I thought that golden skin was armor;
you could darken, of course,
but would never be burned by despair.


Was there even a word for it in the SoCal dialect? I
thought you’d at least have to pay some kind of fee,
get a license to weep (somewhere private, preferably).


So imagine me — fourteen and
as awkward as I’ve ever been —
taking in that perfect, overwrought scene.


Sunbathing in wide angle,
a first-gen iPod,
something called “cardio bar,”
a mother being mean.


And that tall, thin beauty,
the veritable queen of The OC,
doing what every teenage girl wants to do: just S C R E A M.



Glennys Egan can be followed on Twitter @gleegz.