Inland Empire Oasis
I am from a place where the Inland Empire expires,
Without a trace of guns and desert heat.
Instead orange trees put down their roots,
And children eat organic food.
I am from the house in between the “groves,”
Farmland turned into grand driveways
For doctors and ESRI employees
to get away from each
other
Downtown Redlands holds hipster storefronts,
Homemade foods, Nitrogen Icecream, and Fondue.
We stand on the sidewalks without cash,
Watching the doctors pay $7 for a scoop of milk.
Skater Krater, surrounded by shrubs,
Is filled with kids smoking spliffs with paint on their
hands.
Grafitti, small tags, roaches and memories.
Paint layers on top of paint, we’re so high.
We all gravitate towards Augie’s coffee,
Through Prospect Park,
To talk about leaving Redlands.
Our parents sit inside.
Redlands is caught in time, it has forgotten to progress.
Go down the street to the milk store,
There is still the drive thru.
No reason for it, it just is.
If you stay for years in Redlands your roots will ground,
The orange trees will camouflage you,
And you will forget that this city was only a pass thru.
Then you will have children.
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