"Everyone is So Certain" and other poems by California Jones

Everyone is So Certain

Everyone is so certain
it won't happen to them,
until it does.
Everyone is so certain
it won't go too far,
but who can ever stop?
Everyone is so certain
just by the confidence made,
by those already going along.
Everyone is so certain
even though everything is going wrong,
best friends and family gone.

Everyone is so certain,
until they’re not.
To be certain of nothing
will not subtract from agency
and will allow for questioning.
Credibility comes through principle practicing.
The road to certainty is never ending,
might as well walk it with autonomous authority.
Do good, anonymously.

I Remember that Place

I remember that place
Where we used to visit
When we were all still young
Before we’d all gone off
To other places
And had little ones of our own
I remember that place
When we were free
With safety held in torch lights
By our family and elders
Now we hold the illusions
I remember that place
Before tragedy wrenched our guts
Before we were all sucker punched
Boredom was my worst enemy and yours turned out to be someone
you loved and thought you could trust
I remember that place that held us once
Now we aren’t quite hopeless
But certainly weary
I worry about you little brother
I pray by the way
You told me
Since you told me
God speaks to you in dreams
I don’t know what you’re doing
Or where you’re going now
It looks like the road you’ve been taking
Might be changing
It looks like you have a good companion with you
I love you\
In my dreams you hear me telling you to come home
I miss you
It would be nice to see you more regularly though
I know when I go remembering that place
That we never had it easy
But things are shaping up here believe me
In any case, you know, be happy bro
And take it easy

It Wasn’t the Right Time
It wasn’t the right time for him to start in. He, of course, was not aware of this. None of them were. That was doubly true. Once because they were new to the world in general and just were hardly aware of how to move their bodies. All ego, the little foreign people, I heard someone call them once, because of how they are learning to talk and they sometimes are hard to comprehend as they aren’t always speaking in fully formed sentences. Secondly, because they haven’t learned that there are social expectations – for good reasons – which it is useful to be aware of when entering new contexts.

My context was that I was fully aware of all of them, as I had to be watching out for not only my own but also any one of their trajectories. We were at the Inglewood Pump Track when he started to drop in without seeing me coming. I was nearly over the last hump before the big curve on the smaller track. I would have run right into him. I was going too fast. I turned, suddenly, the opposite direction which I had planned to turn. Instead of colliding into and probably demolishing his little body, I slid on my shinbone like a nice boardslide might do, across the sharp corner of the curve’s lip. The edge sliced right through my pants. There was blood everywhere. The kid didn’t even notice.

Where I’m Headed

Where I’m headed could be many things I suppose.

It could be full of different people or empty.

It could be home.

Or maybe I’m already home wherever I go.

Maybe places are always empty, and people just come as they go.

One thing I know is that where ever I go, there I am.

And whenever I feel lost, I just have to get honest to find my way again.

I don’t think where I am headed is on map. I couldn’t tell you where to go to find me in five years. I can tell you that I have hope. I hope for trees and similar things. Rich oxygen, clean, fresh water.

All the things, the experiences, the mistakes, the adventures I’ve had so far would suggest to me that whatever comes next I will love more than I can imagine now. So, where I’m headed maybe doesn’t matter so much. We are here and happy. I love you. Thank you for having me.