200 Posts Later: 100 Awesome Things About Arizornia!

Welcome to my 200th post at The Inner Child Speaketh! Apparently, the inner child has much to say.

I've recently moved from Fullerton, California to Mesa, Arizona, and I couldn't have picked a more controversial time to call both states my home! Arizona's SB 1070 has ignited heated debate bordering (pun intended) on sociopolitical fanaticism, but if California's recent Republican gubernatorial primaries have taught us anything (aside from where your eBay surcharges were going all these years), it's that a fine line in the desert doesn't distinguish the shared responsibility of our nation's integrity. Of course, "our nation's integrity" is a subjective phrase -- for some, it means sanctifying America's borders, and for others, it means an American dream that's accessible to all, no matter what. I've made my opinions public on Facebook, the perfect forum for in-your-face opinions, since that's kind of in its name and all. Here, I've decided to pledge allegiance to both California and Arizona with "100 Awesome Things about Arizornia!"

Yes, "awesome" knows no border, and this is a completely arbitrary list of the places and personalities that make Arizornia such a cool place to live. It's by no means comprehensive, but each entry represents unique experiences I've had by way of the hobbies I most enjoy, like comics, coffee, comedy, etc. A tad autobiographical? Perhaps. A call to arms to experiences these things for yourself? Absolutely. Even if you never visit Arizornia, perhaps my recollection of a person, place, or thing therein will remind you of some similar experience from your personal travels, and we'll at least share that nostalgia -- because whether your America is a well-defined nation of borders or an open ideal for the world to pursue (and I'm not saying one is better than the other!), it's always been a place that tries to remember its roots.

Note: I've distinguished which side of the desert you can find these most awesome of landmarks with red and blue. I think you'll figure out the rest.

1. 24 Hour Wal-Mart, Valleywide: because sometimes you need a pair of tube socks and Drain-o at 4 a.m.
2. A&J’s, Fullerton: a nostalgic walk-up grease pit
3. All About Books & Comics, Phoenix: to the best of my knowledge, the only comic book store accessible from the light rail!
4. ArtSpace, Scottsdale: a gallery in swanky Scottsdale that isn’t afraid to host steampunk exhibits
5. Ash Avenue Comics, Tempe: for their large rack of indie books
6. Atomic Comics, Mesa: Phoenix’s major chain of comic book stores, and fortunately for me the biggest and best location is in Mesa
7. Azteca, Garden Grove: the best collection of Elvis memorabilia at a Mexican restaurant, with karaoke on the weekend!
8. Barney's Boathouse, Tempe: specifically, their $5 burger baskets on Wednesdays and Fridays
9. Beach & Ball, Anaheim: a quaint corner, home to Beachball Comics and three collectible toy stores, including Phat Collectibles, an overpriced collectible toy store – more of a toy museum, really, with action figures in glass cases that I could never afford
10. Beach Blvd. between La Palma and Lincoln, Buena Park: the southbound drive to Knott’s Berry Farm, including Medieval Times and the now-abandoned Wax Museum, is the OC’s answer to Hollywood Blvd.
11. Bee-line Café, Payson: one of the best diners in Arizona, thanks to its rich family history
12. Bill Campana: my favorite local poet/Larry King hater
13. Bill Handel: the best morning radio talk show host, ever
14. Bookmans, Mesa: an excellent source for new and used books and music, and in the same strip mall as Atomic Comics . . . and a 99 Cents Store! Has someone been reading my wish journal?
15. Bragg's Pie Factory, Phoenix: whoever thought to convert an old pie factory into an art exhibit with piñatas – genius. And, is it just me, or does it still smell like pie?
16. Brea Improv, Brea: always emailed me free passes, so they deserve props
17. Canter’s Deli, Hollywood: delicious kosher food – come for the pickles, stay for the bakery!
18. Cheba Hut, Mesa: a cool local sandwich shop with an, uhm, unique theme
19. Cine-Capri, Tempe: though not as historically poignant as the original, this Cine-Capri captures the Valley movie-going experience with the biggest bang around
20. CinemaFusion, Anaheim: with a 21 and over lounge, where you can bring your beer into the theater . . . ‘Nuff said!
21. Coffee Plantation, Scottsdale: What happened to the Arizona-based coffee chain I knew so well?
22. Comedy Store, Hollywood: specifically, its homage to Andy Kaufman
23. Comics, Toons, ‘N Toys, Tustin: my favorite comic book store in life so far
24. Conspire Coffee House, Phoenix: the most daring, eclectic poetry open mic in town
25. CornerStore Comics, Fullerton: a distributor of collectibles, but also a community-minded shop – they frequently donated comics to the Boys & Girls Clubs of Fullerton
26. Date Shack, Newport Beach: now owned and operated by Ruby’s, and home of the my favorite date shack, the Monkey Flip
27. Downtown Fullerton, Fullerton: dubbed “Sunset Blvd. East” by The Los Angeles Times, an antique row turned college town block party
28. Downtown Glendale, Glendale: a time capsule of antique shops, anchored by my favorite, Bo’s Funky Stuff
29. Downtown Los Angeles, Los Angeles: for being like a Monet – beautiful to look at from a distance, but baffling and disoriented up close
30. Downtown Mesa, Mesa: Downtown Mesa has more potential cool than viable cool, but its residents seem to be a patient people
31. Drawn to Comics, Glendale: gets the best customer service award
32. Dunkin' Donuts, Valleywide: California doesn’t have a single Dunkin’ Donuts. I swear; look it up. In Arizona, they’re on every corner. Win.
33. Durty Nelly’s, Costa Mesa: and the best karaoke jockey in Orange County, Kevin
34. El Torito, Cypress: for hosting karaoke on Friday nights, and allowing me to invade so many unsuspecting couples’ romantic dinners with “You Give Love a Bad Name”
35. Evermore Nevermore, Mesa: an oasis of comics and goth punk culture
36. Frank & Sons Collectibles Show, City of Industry: a Mecca of comics and collectibles, and where O.J. Simpson planned to sell the stuff he stole, or that was stolen from him, or whatever
37. Fuzzy Bear’s, Stanton: an enigma I highly recommend
38. Golden Apple Comics, Hollywood: a genuinely famous comic book store
39. Goodwill, Valleywide: every other Saturday is 50% day . . . because $2 for that genuine vintage Tee is about 50% more than I’d be willing to pay!
40. Grand Ave., Phoenix: in the shadow of Phoenix’s rising downtown, a pocket of dive bars and art galleries remain unchanged . . . ironically making them the hippest spot around
41. Greg's Comics, Mesa: when I put $6 worth of back issues on the counter, and the clerk rang me up with, “Ah, let’s say $4,” I knew Greg’s was a cool comics shop
42. Gypsy Den, Santa Ana: delicious coffee, and the home of an amazing open mic – where I first featured!
43. Hollywood Sign, Hollywood: the world’s biggest real estate sign
44. Hollywood Walk of Fame, Hollywood: the only place I can see the Monkees and Mary Tyler Moore all in the same place
45. Jesse James Comics, Glendale: Drawn to Comics gets best customer service, but Jesse James gets most thoughtful; I get there maybe once a month, and he remembers every conversation we had, setting aside recommended comics and offering discounts aplenty
46. June Gloom, overhead: summer’s good morning kiss
47. La Palma Chicken Pie Shop, Anaheim: old school food at old school prices
48. Laugh Factory, Hollywood: a controversial comedy haven
49. Lee Mallory: I daresay the Godfather of Orange County poetry, and a sexy redhead, to boot
50. Light Rail, Valleywide: Phoenix’s bloodstream, and the only way I can get to half the stuff I like around here
51. Linbrook Bowl & the Kopa Room, Anaheim: the best place you will ever karaoke, if you manage to get a turn
52. Long Beach Antique Flea Market, Long Beach: the Antiques Roadshow meets your grandmother’s garage
53. Long Beach’s Antique Row, Long Beach: everything Urban Outfitters wishes it could be – and home of Portfolio Coffee House, the LBC’s best cup of java
54. Los Angeles Comic Book and Science Fiction Convention, the Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles: the best monthly comic book convention in the worst part of town
55. Macayo’s Depot Cantina, Tempe: right off the light rail, converted from the original train station, and offering a free buffet at the bar Monday through Friday, 4 p.m. to 6 p.m.!
56. Marctini Lounge, Glendale: the West Valley has a karaoke oasis, and it is the vainly named and conversely madly hospitable Marctini Lounge
57. Marjle’s, Phoenix: the best place to watch a Suns game – and if it’s too crowded, Cooperstown is an equally accessible plan B
58. McClains Coffee House, Fullerton: my favorite local coffee shop
59. Meltdown Comics, Hollywood: an excellent source of alt and indie comics in the heart of Hollywood’s mainstream
60. Mesa’s Tiny Poetry Slam, Mesa: a thoughtful, funny group of people keepin’ Slam alive in the East Valley
61. Metro Comics, Santa Barbara: holds a fond place in my heart as the shop that introduced me to Vertigo’s Human Target
62. Mill Ave., Tempe: a nine-month long college block party – and a ghost town during the summertime
63. Monsoon, summertime: when I was a kid, I used to put on my Ghostbusters plastic proton pack and glare up at the red night sky, ready for action – thankfully, I scared the specters off
64. Norm’s, Anaheim: They never close.
65. O’Kelly’s Sports Bar, Tempe: karaoke and Ms. Pac-Man under one roof? Yeah, I’m gonna be here awhile
66. OC Weekly: Orange County’s weekly liberal rag – a great read, even if they dropped “Red Meat” and “This Modern World”
67. OCTA: Orange County’s bloodstream
68. Orange Circle, Orange: a row of antique stores, conveniently positioned in a circle to remind us that everything old can be new again
69. Orpheum, Phoenix: a cool venue for even cooler performances, most notably when I saw Kevin Smith there in April
70. Peoria Café, Peoria: the best greasy spoon in the West Valley
71. Phoenix Comicon, Phoenix: I saw Stan Lee, Wil Wheaton, LeVar Burton, and Jonathan Frakes without having to waiting in San Diego Comic Con-like lines – so I’m looking forward to next year
72. Phoenix New Times: Phoenix’s token liberal rag, with fun regular pieces about the history of Van Buren Blvd. and Fry Girl’s fast food rants
73. Phoenix Skyline: as triumphant as a resurrected bird of flame
74. Pofolks, Buena Park: good old-fashioned eats, and the only Pofolks left in the west!
75. Pop Culture Paradise, Tempe: a comic book store with a tight fit and a nice selection of toys and back issues
76. Queen’s Pizzeria, Mesa: the hospitable host of the Mesa Poetry Slam, not to mention a huge, tasty, affordable Greek salad
77. Robin Hood Motel, Anaheim: for the cool sign
78. Rutabegortz, Fullerton: vegetarian cuisine so good, you’d think it had meat in it!
79. Samurai Comics, Phoenix: like All About Books and Comics, a cool downtown location, with another impressive rack of indies and local talent
80. Sherriff Joe Arpaio: I don’t care for his politics, but few have made local law enforcement more dramatically entertaining
81. Sherwood Inn, Anaheim: this ain’t Robin Hood’s Sherwood . . . Who want drink milk?!
82. Starbucks, 5th St. & Mill Ave.: the best vantage point for a bustling college town
83. Starbucks, Chapman Ave. & Harbor Blvd.: the best vantage point for downtown Fullerton
84. Sunrise Café, Tempe – café cookin’ with Mediterranean flair
85. T.C. Eggington's, Mesa: a tasty breakfast with a surprisingly hilarious mythology on its menu
86. Tempe Improv, Tempe: the first comedy club I ever went to (and saw Jon Stewart pre-Daily Show), and now where I’ve seen the most edgy comedy show ever, with Greg Fitzsimmons
87. The Other Place, Anaheim: the perfect plan B
88. Third Street Promenade, Santa Monica: specifically, the street preachers, the guys that play the buckets, and the picture of the Monkees in the corner Irish pub
89. Tilted Kilt, Tempe: waitresses in kilts . . . I’m just sayin’
90. TomKat Lounge, Anaheim: a dive bar so low, you touch the bottom of the pool – and don’t play the drums onstage during karaoke!
91. Two Idiots Peddling Poetry/Ugly Mug, Orange: Orange County’s best poetry reading at one of its coolest coffee shops, and some of the nicest guys that ever inspired me to keep writing
92. Uncle Monkey's, Mesa: karaoke stumbling distance from my apartment, every night of the week – and with a name like that, who wouldn’t check it out
93. Universal Studios/CityWalk, Hollywood: comics, stand-up comedy, PEZ . . . all in one place? This is where dreams come to dream!
94. Uptown Whittier: the best . . . oh, never mind . . . I’ll never be as punk rock as Uptown Whittier
95. Venice Beach: weirdo central
96. Village Inn, Valleywide: my favorite Denny’s alternative where my mom works
97. Wayne Resnick: the best weekend radio talk show host that deserves a regular weekly time slot
98. Westward Ho, Phoenix: the hotel from the beginning of Psycho stands proud in the heart of Phoenix and looks ready to stab the Chase building in the back
99. Xtreme Bean, Tempe: an old bank converted to Tempe’s best coffeehouse, and the old walk-in safe is a study room!
100. Zia’s, Tempe: one of the last, great record stores

Milling About My New 'Hood

"On your way to the Justice League meeting?" the barista asked.

For a moment, I wondered if she knew me. No, I'm not a member of the Justice League, but anyone that knows me knows how close my apartment might resemble the Watchtower Trophy Room. Then I realized that she was just making fun of my Justice League T-shirt, and I decided to play along.

"Just came from it, actually," I replied.

"Any pressing business?" she quipped.

"No global crises tonight," I persisted, "but if there were, you'd never know. We're that good." I proceeded to order a Chai tea and take a seat.

I'd hoped to blog about my new neighborhood tonight. I now live just a few blocks away from Mill Avenue, the row adjacent to Arizona State University that once earned the campus Playboy acclaim, but the strip is an echo of its former self in the shadow of our current economy. When I was younger, Mill was the place to hang out if you dared the drive from the west to east valley, if you wanted to look and feel cool. I once distributed Christian poetry here, because Mill was where the sinners met. Since I didn't go to ASU like so many of my friends, Mill maintained this mythical status to me, and I've reveled in my recent proximity to it.

Of course, even on a Sunday night, clubs still flood the street with their tribal bass, but it's a dying heartbeat. My favorite coffeeshop is like a missing tooth, so I'm resigned to the Starbucks standard, pondering how this town lost its bite. Maybe I just toughened up a bit.

Twelve years ago, I might not have shrugged off that barista's dry wit so effortlessly, but I realize I'm just as cool as Mill used to be, perhaps only a few years too late. I can live with that. I don't mind being an honorary member of its past, if it gives my memories a little more justice.

Veterans' Day

I've had the privilege of meeting some hard-working veterans over the years, of course including my own grandfather, but none outside of my own family impacted me more than Tom, an old timer that volunteered for the after school program where I work. He passed away back in September 2006, and to celebrate Veterans' Day I've dug up this old LiveJournal entry about it to share again here. One of the most sincere honors I've ever experienced is hearing how much his wife enjoyed this remembrance.

"Tom Goes . . ."
written September 28, 2006

My experience with global communication technologies is extremely limited by the modern standards of the science, but I am grateful for what little I understand, because without e-mail or text messaging I would be minutes or hours behind some of the most life-changing news I've ever received. Less than a year ago, when I woke up around 2 a.m. on the morning of my birthday for an unexpected and annoying call from Mother Nature, my cell phone was blinking with an important text message from a friend/co-worker, announcing the early and equally unexpected birth of his baby boy. I'll never forget it: "HE IS HERE." Like a caption in a comic book, the words were simple but powerful, and further, I was honored to be on the list of folks he contacted in those undoubtedly hectic hospital moments. Text messaging made that possible.

This morning, I received a similarly important message but from the other end of the spectrum. My boss sent us the news that Tom, a volunteer that had been working for our organization for three years, passed away last night. The message wasn't surprising; Tom was old. I bet he wasn't even as old as he looked. Tom was like a walking smokestack. He must have had a cigarette for every half hour I knew him, indicative by a hoarse cough that usually announced his presence before you heard the scuffing of his patented old man walk. More essentially to my analogy, however, Tom had a fire in his belly for technology. He was a freelance computer technician, an ironic profession for a man that must have been born before the advent of the iconoscope, and his know-how has been an asset to us since his inaugural smoke in our parking lot. Before long he felt at home with our organization, and although he never really grasped the importance of watching his mouth around children, his intent was to assure the kids' complete and comprehensive access to computers and technology. And he did it for free. Tom was the first to tell you that, in his line of work, he was the most inexpensive option available; corporate competitors charge upwards to eighty dollars just for walking through your door. He charged twenty. And if your problem was a quick fix, a hearty "thank you" was the only other payment he expected. In his old age, Tom was confident that helping people was its own reward.

I know this because he told me so. The day before yesterday, Tom sat in my office, winded by the walk from his car. Tom loved a strong cup of coffee, and over a cup of freshly brewed Folgers we talked about his days as a weather man for the Air Force, the troubles of his small business, and the joys of working with children. In a rare moment of warmth, Tom mentioned the happiness on a child's face when they experience something new, like how to operate a computer on a higher level. Oh, and I should mention that Tom had an eye for the ladies. He hit on every woman in our office, in as shameless and crude a manner as possible. A few weeks ago, he asked one of my employees if she was married, and I interrupted, "She isn't, Tom, but you are!" He instantly retorted, "I'm not, but my wife is." Tom had an old wit and charm about him that evoked my instant respect. I've met plenty of old folks that boast a bitterness about how "the way things are now aren't the way things used to be," but as a tech guy, Tom embraced change. No, change is the wrong word. Tom liked to see things develop for the better, from the computers he fixed to the people that used them afterward.

Of course, my appreciation for the man has solidified only now that he's gone. I often thanked him for his help in our computer lab, more so than I think I've thanked anyone, but I wouldn't have minded a few more conversations like the one we had on Tuesday, exploring his undoubtedly colorful past. Interestingly, although Tom and I talked often, I remember sensing an importance about that particular talk, making a conscious effort to remember things like the clink of the coffee pot in my hand to the Superman mug in his when I poured "the soup," as he called it. I don't feel that lingering uneasiness folks feel at a loved one's passing, because that last conversation was a very pleasant experience and an excellent way to remember him. I was blessed with a solid sense of closure. If I had just known that would've been his second to last day alive, maybe I would've encouraged him to spend less time laying wires in our Learning Center and more time with other people needing a final few minutes with him, too.

I had finally programmed Tom's number in my cell a few days ago, and I'm looking at his name in my address book now, grieving a bit for his family. I'm amazed that this list, which I normally perceive as little digital channels to all of the important people in my life, now includes a route that is completely closed off. A technological bridge that, if I dialed it now, leads to nowhere. Of course, fond memories of Tom will abound in the office for weeks to come, and through the help he offered us these past three years, his legacy will linger for a long time, as cheesy as that sounds. But Tom understands it. Global communication technology isn't just wires and hardware and invisible broadcast waves in the atmosphere. It's our priceless connection with people. Thanks for reminding us, Old Man.

And if there's a heaven, Tom is standing outside of its gates, having that last cigarette, and when he turtle-walks to St. Peter for check-in, he'll wryly extend his hand and say, "Hello, I don't know who you are, but you can call me Sue."

McCute

On Saturday, 711 gave away free 7 oz. Slurpees. Every Monday for the next few weeks, McDonalds will give away free 7 oz. mochas. Quenching my thirst has never been so cute.

8:54 a.m. to 1:41 p.m.

I'm in the middle of a much-needed morning sabbatical, following yesterday's comprehensive evaluation at work. No need to document details about that, other than to comment that the folks responsible for funding much of our country's concept of "the after school program" obviously don't inhabit said programs long enough to understand the real essence of fulfilling a community's needs. These grants are written by desk jockeys that presume their experiences from some twenty years ago, and what they saw on Dateline last night, is enough to inform them about what best for the average 2008 kid.

Little do they know that the 2008 kid would just as quickly take your cell phone if you left it unattended as he would fall prey to a wandering neighborhood pedophile. Balance that . . .

Fortunately, the new year isn't all high expectations and embittered confrontations. Thanks to the hardships of moving amidst the holidays, 2007 latched onto my leg like a little stubborn pitbull that I kept trying to shake free. Then, 2008 showered Southern California in a baptism of watery resolutions, washing away the previous 365, and thankfully not some high-priced Malibu cul-de-sac. (Not that they weren't prepared. I didn't know there was enough sand on those Malibu beaches to fill so many burlap sacks. Still, for all their fire and landslide deterrents, nothing will help them when one of Pamela Anderson's breasts breaks free of its host and self-replicates into an army of silicone Tribbles . . . yes, you heard it here first.)

So I hopped on a bus toward my favorite comic book stop with my .mp3 player freshly loaded with some favorite tunes when, at my transfer point, Mother Nature called. No, it wasn't the kind of call you can transfer to voice mail; it was an urgent, potentially lengthy conversation. With just a 20 minute window before my next bus arrived, I was fortunate to take the call in an adjacent Wal-Mart and find the Legendary Comic Book Heroes series three Sin City Marv action figure. I made it back to curb just as the bus was pulling up. When Mother calls, she has a good reason.

I've begun my second year of A Comic A Day, my daily attempt to read and review a comic book I've never read before. Time to type up an entry about The Drowners #1 by Nabiel Kanan, finish this organic iced chai tea latte at Tustin's Lost Bean, then stroll to the comic book store for a good half hour's worth of perusing, then take the buses back to work just in time for the kids to get out of school. A better day really couldn't be written.

Quality Customer Service

She remembers my name
which is nothing more
than quality customer service
but I have to wonder
if she's called it out before
somewhere other than
over my freshly blended coffee.

McCoffee Oasis

McDonald's in Arizona, and most likely many other markets around the country, are offering iced flavored coffees on their menu, and when I was in the Valley a few weekends ago, I sampled their hazelnut blend. It was sweet and syrupy, but the potential for a tasty morning pick-me-up was evident under the artificial flavoring. Of course, Burger King has a similar iced coffee treat, their BK Joe, which seems to favor a powdered permeation, but again the effort is valiant, if hopefully only foundational.

What impresses about all of these drinks is the size. For two bucks, customers receive a hefty, I'm guessing twenty ounce coffee beverage. The BK Joe is in a deceptive narrow cup, but the McDonald's drinks were like Big Gulps, consuming our cup-holding console. I'm waiting for the caffeinated experiment to reach California in the hopes that the style meets the substance.

Between these iced coffees and their register jockeys actually mixing in cream and sugar to their regular blends, McDonald's is obviously attempting to conquer Starbucks' signature burnt-bean monopoly with customer service and convenience. What's next, a sidekick for the Hamburgler dubbed the Baristoolie? It's barista and stoolie put together, and . . .

Never mind.

The Way I See It #282

The quote on my Starbucks cup today, their "The Way I See It #282":

"Childhood is a strange country. It’s a place you come from or go to – at least in your mind. For me it has an endless, spellbound something in it that feels remote. It’s like a little sealed-vault country of cake breath and grass stains where what you do instead of work is spin until you’re dizzy." -- Lyall Bush, Executive director of Richard Hugo House, a center for writers and readers.

I'm Lovin' It

When you order a coffee at McDonald's, employees now offer to add in your cream and sugar for you. Though the potential for contamination makes me grimace, the opportunity to drive thru for a pre-mixed blend and avoid potential hot-lap puts the golden in those arches for me.

Hopefully that the only gold going anywhere near my coffee.

My Side of a Conversation with Starbucks' Pumpkin Spice Flavor

You're early.

No, no, of course I'm happy to see you.
It's just . . .

Well, I wasn't ready for you yet.

No, I can't explain it.

I guess,
I guess, what you bring to the table
is so special
I can only handle it
when the time is right.

You know, I have to be
in the mood.

Yes, you get me
in the mood,
but it feels more special
if I'm already there.

If the air is crisp
and smells slightly
of fireplace
and all that.

I kind of
fall for you
all over again.

That's romantic, isn't it?

No, don't say that. Come on . . .

Fine. Be that way.
At least I was honest.

You'll come back.


You always come back.

Surprisingly Cool

When I woke up
this morning
the sky was overcast
and the breeze was
surprisingly cool

so I excitedly pulled on
my favorite sweater
and walked to the corner
for a hot cup of coffee

and though it was fresh
from the pot
when it hit my tongue
I thought it tasted
surprisingly cool

so when I returned it
to the barista
I may not have had
the warmest tone of voice

but she offered me another
with an apology and a smile
in the heat of the moment
the way she reacted was
surprisingly cool

so I adjourned to the patio
to enjoy my morning brew
and watch the traffic
drive by briskly

and when the sun finally woke up
and stretched its yellow legs
I sipped my coffee and kept my sweater on
because they made me feel
surprisingly cool.

Time to Make the Coffee

To many people across the country, that Target is now carrying Dunkin' Donuts brand coffee is no bog deal, but to many Californians and me, these ground roasts are our only taste of the legendary doughnut chain. Yes, you can find any ethnic food available in the world right here in Orange or Los Angeles counties, but you cannot find a Dunkin' Donuts. (They were a rare commodity in Arizona as I was growing up there, too, but a recent affiliation with Baskin Robbins has fostered half-doughnut/half-ice cream shops across the Valley.) I know I'm not the only one jonesing for a Dunkin', since the Hollywood Target at which we purchased our first Dunkin' Donuts coffee was sold out of every blend except decaf and hazelnut, the latter of which I prefer, anyway. While the average instant pot of coffee often tastes the same to me, and the Dunkin' grounds are no exception (two hasty pots into the bag, at least), just seeing that familiar pink and orange logo assures me even more than the daily inaugural morning cup of coffee usually does. I can picture where this coffee came from. I can see that little mustached man grinding the beans for me -- just one more task on his pre-dawn to-do list. Just like I remembered, his work is right on target.

I defy anyone to find a better sweet treat than the chocolate Dunkin' Donut hole.

Collegetown

Get to Starbucks
an hour early.
The line might get
a little curly.

Collegetown is back
in session.
Raise your hand
if you have a question.

"Where did all these cars
come from?
Why must summer submit
to autumn?"

Mothers lament
their empty nests,
but I have a birdie
for my town's guests.

Nine months from now
summer will return the norm . . .
until then we live
in a city-wide dorm.

Metopia

I can’t sleep
but I’m dreaming.
I’ve lost my faith
but I’m make-believing.

In a perfect world
I’d be able to karaoke
at lunchtime.

Children’s laughter
would top the pop charts
as the greatest hit
of all time.

Every woman would know my name,
how I take my coffee
and when to leave me alone.

Certain moments
would stand still
like perfectly rendered
comic strip panels.

God would be
a business card
stuffed in my wallet.

The bridges I’ve burnt
would rebuild themselves
thoroughly and thankfully
without my help.

I wouldn’t be wealthy
but I’d always have
just enough.

Adults would sprawl themselves
onto poorly mowed lawns
and pretend their action figures
were in the jungle.

Adults would own action figures
because the term man-child
would be redundant.

The backs of my eyelids
would broadcast a loop
of the best day
of my life.

Every politician
would start their speeches
with a really good joke.

In a perfect world
the apocalypse
would always be
tomorrow,

and happy endings
would start that way,
too.