Calling From Burbank in the Rain

at midnight, my son calls from Burbank
standing outside a movie studio lot
on a flooded sidewalk
in the rain

tonight, I drove past ghostly trees
standing naked in their yards on the boulevard
waving white limbs
like graceful arms

you stared out the window without seeing
as I pointed them out
said they reminded me of the trees that
threw apples at the Tinman

but your head was already south
in a palm tree with coconuts
or aboard a yacht out to sea
the wizard

all I want is to hold on tight
to what i love
to whom I love
to this moment before it passes

upstairs I hear you clear your throat
having decided to wait up for me
while i linger with the blank page
wondering if and when i will see m y son again

hearing his words
in the rain
"anything is possible"

ksaint