Modesto

I dine on beer and cottagecheese
With the TV on and books and papers
In piles on the floor
And its just like being back in California

But if I step outside
The air will not be warm and sweet
And will not blow through the orchard or the apricot tree
There will not be stars or grass
I cannot walk to the barn
Or sit on the porch with Liza
There is no backyard
To play music in
No rabbits asleep in hutches
Or ducks on the pond
I don’t have a garden
And I’m not in love.