Postcard From San Francisco
Downtown moody boulevard chaos with
geometric grid shaped layout and contrasting
zones some fashionable clapperboard happy
comfy with creepin Bougainvillea outer walls
and others dark and lonely dog dirt proud – San
Francisco with its great fishing net big catch clam
mix of Chinese, Mexican, Red Indian stock, the down
and dowdy, the rich and radiant the haves and want
to haves and the opium red eyed living dead – they’ve
been heading out this way for years seeking their
fortune from the early gold rush days and Barbary
coast dwellers, the out of town chancers, all looking
for a free piece of pie, everyone wants the deal, everyone
wants to win on the dollar wheel – walking downtown
along Fisherman’s Wharf with it crab steam pots and
chowder sit easy squats and the huge swaying mass of
touristy camera clicking lot, walking down Obese Pacific
Highway thinking about America land of make it, use it,
chuck it, heaps of expendable disposable commodities –
visited City Lights bookstore shrine where Ferlinghetti
printed Ginsberg’s Howl and the whole Beat Generation
kicked off with the free flow thinkers so new and daring
think Pollack in words so brave and loose now faded with
ghosts of Kerouac and Burroughs in every shadowy bar –
big visit to Frisco Museum of Modern Art and introduction
to Sam Taylor Wood and Ralston Crawford keeping the
flame alive. Yosemite was a silent mountain contrast
hiking 5000 ft to elevated waterfalls on the trail of the
lonesome pine – then along the coast of grow anything
Santa Barbara, Santa Maria, Santa Monica and sacks of
Santa Claus goodies. Looking forward to Big Sur and
more Kerouac dream connections. Not looking forward
to flying home, could stay her, would stay here, if I was
rich or carefree with time, or daring and loose.
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