Dear Suki, Carmel, April 23rd, 68′,
I visited you in California when I
missed us from that postcard to no
where here. It began that way, noon
lent itself into the footsteps of two
thousand miles set there by waters,
I crunched of gravel with long shot
to the sea in your embrace so tight.
Dearest girl, I hoped to say what I
want when the road turned to sand, 
when I liked things simple from all
the ways you had done and scented
back, surfacing me. Decades still 
would find me there, in the quiet of
your mint vexing mouth, giving for
what we have been without missing
us gently through handshakes and
apologies, making relief of our ghosts.

– Lana Bella