today like everyday

portland was high
portland was low.
portland you monster,
you made us grow.
following crows to
the train yard,
we strange birds
held bright eyes
from dusk till dawn,
sleeping next to industry,
in the day and in the night,
we were alive
and felt how life was light,
as we three feathers fell,
began to ascend towards
the greater flock
that travels south
every winter
towards new orleans chamber
but before the mist and bayou,
the desert and hardships,
we made love to san francisco,
its jazz under wintery belt
in rain and wind,
we slept in the italian neighborhood,
made it to the cafe before the doors opened,
talked our symbolic history that hadn't happened yet,
it has now, and still we only feel of a beginning,
the beginning of our future prosperity we dream about.
not vaga-bondage but the surreal maturity we recognized
in finished arts like finished films, real but open to interpretation.