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      February 13, 2013Destination: BeautifulEugenia Leigh

      I’ve come to hunt a time capsule at the west end
      of Sunset Boulevard. To rummage the beach for remnants
      of old friends who’ve abandoned themselves to sprout
       
      new families. Suddenly everyone has cleaved
      to strangers made of diamonds and cake, capable of waving away
      whole bruised childhoods—rotten fruits we used to feed
       
      this drooling ocean. Years ago, a friend and I
      hiked the Will Rogers trail. We caught a dim rainbow
      at the cliff, where he stood and hid
       
      his hands in his pockets. We sucked in the Pacific,
      the traffic. We met an elderly man called Timothy—a retired
      tour guide who slept in his car with a book of red-letter scripture
       
      seatbelted next to him. I hoped I would die
      on that mountain because I thought, that close to God,
      it would be a hassle to send me to hell.
       
      In the memory of that day, I am alone. The friend is there—also
      alone. He leans from the cliff and scans the city dots
      for his beautiful girl. His, now,
       
      wife. Wife. The word bends like a soft
      branch in my mouth. I’ve learned not to choke on it
      by lying achingly still. The waves reach and reach for me
       
      over the black ocean. The tender white hands of children
      petting a large, harmless corpse.

      from #37 - Summer 2012

      Eugenia Leigh

      “I own a photograph of this moment when my friend stands at the cliff with his back to the rainbow. We’d stopped midway up the Will Rogers trail (in Los Angeles) at a resting area called Inspiration Point. I borrowed the title of this poem, ‘Destination: Beautiful,’ from the title of indie/alternative band Mae’s first album, released in 2003 by Tooth & Nail Records. That album looped in my friend’s Honda Accord that day.”