203. I Remember Sylma.

I REMEMBER SYLMA

I remember Sylma.

It was hot, very hot.

We had driven from San Francisco

On our way to San Diego.

We were approaching Los Angeles;

It's sky-scrapers were rearing up, menacingly.

I said 

'Let's go round the back.'

On the map it looked green and inviting.

The thought of an enormous city

Was not attractive.

'Round the back'

Meant bearing left and going up into those green hills.

By the time we got to Sylma

It was dusk

And we were hungry.

We walked the main street

Looking for somewhere to eat.

We found a restaurant 

With a number in its name.

'Three Fiddlers'?

'Ten Green Bottles'?

'The Seventh Son?'

I can't remember now.

But I can remember how cool it was,

And the tasty food,

And the pleasant waitress.

Though not her name.

I hope she is safe.

Driving on the 'wrong side of the road'

Can be exhausting.

We needed ease.

We needed Sylma.


Now Sylma needs us.

But we are on the 'wrong side of the world'.