San Diego by Roy Christopher
The terminal juvenilia of San Diego Days without end, nonstop sunshine
Carrying a skateboard more than riding it
But being afraid to leave it at home
Sitting outside at Lestat’s We made giant, plate-glass plans
While a kid tried to steal my bike
Two feet from our entwined fingers
I used to ride that S&M Holmes Seven and a half miles to work Through sidewalks, train tracks, and one-way streets
But I usually got a ride back to Normal Heights
One day I read Kahlil Gibran aloud On the round grassy moguls by the Ralph’s Where I later shoplifted for the third time that week
A big bottle of yellow mustard
Roy Christopher is an aging BMX and skateboarding zine kid. That’s where he learned to turn events and interviews into pages with staples. He has since written about music, media, and culture for everything from books and blogs to national magazines and academic journals. He holds a Ph.D. in Communication Studies from the University of Texas at Austin. As a child, he solved the Rubik’s Cube competitively. http://roychristopher.com