San Francisco
The wind came in from the sea and blew me to pieces
scattered me through the hills of the Mission and Noe Valley
i saw it all
the saint of the fog was welcoming me
as i assembled my self on the north beach
The husk of me drifted back to shore
Crisp glints of glass greeted me
as a solid I begin to move with the rotation of the planet
clockwise blooming Dahlias' circled the mirror agents
buzzing in the coffee shops,
bookstores and the dens of the cephalopods
Ignored by the wall
the door began to creek
advancing the return of silence
my ride to oblivion
Copyright © Robert Sciasci | Year Posted 2010
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