We headed down to the record store,
somewhere in the Hollywood Hills.
We found a parking garage and wound our way up.
At the top, I had to be the tourist—
taking advantage of the height for a photo.
I was shocked, looking through the lens
at the trees in the distance, or between them,
when the outlines of buildings became apparent,
peaking out from behind the heavy air.
I recalled an afternoon, not long after giving up
grass as a recreational pastime,
when I spent twenty minutes looking for the book-
bag, which had been on my back all throughout.