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.
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: