Ghost Town

It's raining in San Luis Obispo.

I got caught in it trying to walk downtown from Emily's house in De Talosa. At first it was just a few drops speckling my coat as I walked along Madonna, but by the time I'd reached South Higuera, water was dripping off my bangs onto my glasses - turning the traffic lights into festive smears of red and green. I finally reached my destination soaking wet, ringing out my scarf as the good folks as Linnaea's warmed my heart with espresso. Coffee shops were made for days like this; groups of friends chatting over tea lattes while the rain pours down on the grey city and Frank Sinatra croons over the speakers.

I can't help wondering when I'll be back here. But the town is different now, emptier - although I know the void is a lack of friendship and not a lack of humans. Everywhere I see shiny young faces, boring in their unfamiliarity. Driving at midnight the streets are empty.

This empty shell of a town isn't mine anymore, and like Mary Poppins would say, that's as it should be.