Make it a federal case. The stale nostalgic smell of a year gone by lingers throughout the canyon. Like clockwork, we gather at the same time, at the same places with the same sweetness on our faces. Drinks slosh, hands graze, and smiles stretch wide enough to hold the whole night. Everything’s on fire. This whole hill is ablaze with sunny dispositions because everyone here is a Californian. Someone brought a grin to the face of the party. Someone showed me a tattoo at the party. Someone kissed the love of their life at the party. Every word lands on time. It’s a beautiful thing. 

Everyone is rushing and everyone is so pretty. I claw my way up to the top of the hill in the backyard where there’s going to be a landslide one day. I didn’t mean to wander so far from the people. Play me out. I say this to myself. There should be a coyote in my shadow gifting the night some meaning, marking some time. Something to make the night feel prophetic but it doesn’t and it won’t. That’s why I said it under my breath. This way I could do it without trying, so if it did happen, I had nothing to do with it. No attachment to outcome.

I’m scanning for two red eyes in the rambling sage. Gray against the darker gray. I realize there’s no music playing outside. Only the gorgeous cacophony of good people having a good time. This is what Californians do. We sprawl over dry land and make it wet with promises while we mutter half truths under our breath.

Midnight strikes and a frenzy ensues and everyone is spinning, locking lips. Homies kissing homies. Smoke and fog hide our evolving faces and still no coyote. No miracle. Just the same gray. The night’s swallowed the town whole. Me and the insomniacs lay awake till the stars go blue. All the good people are tucked into bed and all the bad people are in my car. The shadow cowgirls are camping out on the off-ramp. Their horses are turning tricks in the blue moon. They make it look easy.

I’m watching the cool airy colors of the streetlights glide across my windshield like a faint threadbare red, white and blue flag. I’ve been training for this moment. I’m being watched and I can feel it. That’s the only way I can make it home. The road thins out and I don’t even realize how fast I’m driving till I come to a stop and nearly break my nose on the steering wheel. My grin is wavering and wrong.

The sky is bleeding pale pink into the horizon now. A coyote lurches beneath the overpass, playing in concrete’s shadow. What the hell happened last night. I think I left my shame in the new year. I think I left my pride in the new year. I think I made a choice. 

Happy New Year.