Beach House by Hannah Miet

Beach House | Hannah Miet

I was new to LA
It was November
and wind-cold
the kind you feel
in your clavicles,
and I’d thrown away or sold
all my winter jackets

I shivered by the ocean
and did hot yoga
and got yeast infections
and wrote a rich kid’s USC essay
for $100 on Upwork

I ate frozen yogurt
twice a day
thinking it probiotic
but the sugar brewed
a storm beneath my skin

In class with Botoxed blondes
or in cafes filled with talkers
I wondered how anyone
got here, stayed here,
paying bills
in a city where a cup of coffee
costs more than minimum wage

I applied online

for a job at a juice bar
and sat in traffic,
thinking existentially
about student debt

Nobody tells you
Los Angeles gets cold
They don’t tell you
the beach can be menacing
in its beauty,

as the sunset reaches
its prime-time crescendo
and everyone smiles
as you walk by,
baby —

alone.

About the Author:

Hannah Miet is an award-winning writer and New Yorker based in Los Angeles. Her poetry, prose, and journalism have appeared in PANK Magazine, The New York Times, Newsweek, The Rumpus, The Naugatuck River Review, Pelican Bomb, The Atlantic, The Two Weeks anthology, and elsewhere. She recently participated in the Kenyon Review’s Summer 2023 Poetry Workshop. Learn more at https://writing.hannahmiet.net/ or follow her on Instagram @hannah_miet.