Sleeping With The Window Open

when i lived in san francisco, i slept with the window open.
salt water fog crept in through my window.
the rain would sneak in -
the window opened on my side of the room -
and the rain would kiss me awake,
san francisco snowflakes.
it's the closest i'll ever get to winter.

the rain would kiss me awake,
and i'd wake to a city of lights like christmas,
cars at 3am on highways like veins.
this city was so alive
and so full of hope
for me.

my roommate sleeps across the room.
I'm in a house full of love -
or close enough.
everything's quiet, and still, and calm,
except for distant horns
and drunk chatter.
Like Heaven.

I'm back home now, in sacramento.
I keep my window closed when I sleep.
it's either too hot or too cold.
too quiet or too loud.
and the window doesn't open on my side of the room.
the rain doesn't kiss, it demands you awake.
everything demands you in sacramento.
it demanded me to leave, now demands me to stay.
cities and states and countries away...
I'm falling in love with my hometown like a marriage arranged
for convenience. For family, for money. For no other choice.
But I am falling in love with my hometown.
I am falling in love again.
I am falling in love.
it demands me to love.
and i'm beginning to think maybe san francisco rain wasn't just san francisco's at all.