Raw Goods

park

there's a hill in san francisco
and the air is less of a burden there

calla lillies unfurl under rose bushes
but the light isn't any lighter
or the wind less sharp

stairs climb up its terraces
the levels of hydrangea and bougainvillea

each house has a different name
but you don't know what they are
- they don't advertise

the park drapes across a slope
leading up from north beach

cars whistle and trains honk
busses whirr and neon signs clang

the bay below stretches like steel siding
corrugated warehouses dot shore

a fire engine rumbled downhill from coit tower
alarm sighing like a captain who'd just left

men and women in amarillo waders
thick suspenders bunched over blue t-shirts
jumped from ladder trucks, ran door to door

pastel facades behind wrought-iron bannisters
knock-knock - who's there - your car
it's illegally parked

flowers, bridges, grassland mountains
vistas curl between hotels and bars

look, Ginsburg lived there -
can you see the mural?
that's the nastiest video store in town
two guys had a fight there
one kid wanted into the club
the bouncer threw him down the hill
kid comes back, staggering up
the sidewalk gleams, tongue wet
he spits he cries
he wants into the club
his girlfriend's pulls him away
bouncers laugh at him
even the cops shake their head

flower shop bookstore donuts lawyers
if you break your foot, you know where to go
don't go up that street, so steep it has stairs
but if you look down the alley towards the Sunset
past the jazz club and the parking lot
where the valet guy eats cashews, reads Arabic,
you'll see a kid teaching his brother how to dribble
basketball bigger than his torso

broken bottle, stained glass, baby stroller
she yells at the firefighters, drives away
fisherman's wharf smells like popcorn and seaweed
hell's angel's flew past there, or blue
i forget which - no i don't, time to stop lying
it's all there, or it was, or it will be again.

posted by judy j @ 1:32 PM