I am wandering

through the canyons of my birth city,

not searching for overpriced coffee brewed in clear glass filters,

not tempted to buy an orange-and-black jersey to fit in with the City’s baseball lovers,

not yearning for a pair of dry ultra-sporty boots to cover my toes,

instead sinking into the sand stuck in my damp sandals

after a morning trip to Ocean Beach.

I am wandering

without a compass or a map app as a guide,

not caring about my distorted reflection in windows as I walk along Montgomery (unaware sand is stuck in my hair),

not needing to buy words bound and displayed on the shelves of the City Lights bookstore,

not trying to create a poem while rocking in the Poet’s Chair.

I am wandering,

not consumed by our early memories: that night we walked and walked along these streets before our early morning flight to Spain,

not believing that a kiss will hold me for an hour, but knowing that the best ones last for an eternity,

not wanting to pick up left-over marigold petals scattered on the damp sidewalk after the Farmers’ Market,

not lamenting that my mother whisked my infant self away from the sea salty foggy City to the wild spaces of the Gold Country, so I grew up with fool’s gold dust under my fingertips,

not searching for answers to all the questions that I’ve asked over the years (for once),

not needing to fit into anyone’s ideal of who they think I should be

because

I am

seeking absolutely nothing,
and nothing is
a no thing:

a space of being open
without needing
any thing,
but the moment
of seeking absolutely

nothing.

 ~ Jes Wright

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Editor: Emily Bartran

Image: Pixoto