SF

SAN FRANCISCO POEM

11th.april.2016

Poets have written

of you “cool grey city of love,”

imagining those haunted by your gates

gold miners, drunken writers, poet sailors

leaving summer far behind,

each street

each neighborhood

keeps secrets about you

unlooked prose in gutters

breaks up some lonely place,

searched inside out

you are still a muted mystery,

wishing that a book may survive

these musings at lunch time,

but you were always illusive

In this underworld you clothed yourself with

lights and fog, yes fog which names you his,

newspaper stands rusting with age

listening to homeless visionaries

talking up your mercenary ways.