Mission Dolores

More like the Avenues

Than the Mission,

We think of what might have been,

Had they camped on York Street,

Half a mile further from the wind.

Graffiti Ocean Beach 1970s

Nixon’s Dad Should Have Pulled Out Early

Ortega street resevoir

Tai Chi artists

Go with the flow in the fog,

As I shiver and quiver

Looking for Marin Hills and God.

A great life

Dad walks where he and mom used to,

Feeling guilty mom’s sick,

His beauty no longer there to talk with,

“She loved days like this.

Shit.”

San Francisco’s finest son

Too bad about Robert Frost,

He packed up and left.

70 years later perpetual teenagers came west.

Oh how I lost!

South of Market San Francisco

From bums to gentry

Either way I lose.

Tacky buildings, a life of booze

I always feel empty.

Hills – San Francisco

Getting steeper every year,

You stop at the top a little longer.

After you’ve caught your breath,

You keep watching.

Don’t know how long you’ll be here.

Potrero Hill

Balmy mornings
Kids look to East Bay
Dreaming of sultry greatness
Playing ball in St. Louis, Cincinnati.

As adults
They walk to the west side
See the peaks
Fog thick and still behind them
Wondering if it’s too late to be majestic
Knowing they might never be at peace.

6 Masonic – san francisco

End of the line,

Bus pulls into circle.

Driver springs from coach to peer at the ocean against the wind,

Facing it stoically like he does his riders,

But loving the fierceness.

Stowe lake – russians

Russians walk around lake in the fog

Enduring our summer chill

Making me shiver over who they saw killed

On days bleak like this

By a leader they thought was God.