San Francisco
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something more than the post card views of the famous bridge of china town of cable cars of winding streets of fishermans wharf of the barbary coast of beatnik cafes and the summer of love of golden gate park of the strip joints neon flash of the missions trail of the mexican war something more calls the traveller to keep returning here the stranger sampling all is made aware of an insistent enervation affecting mood through hectic cars blurred crowds push there is a newness an urgent surge adding energy to the wheel of thought giving wider compass to its revolution a radical cry an exuberant shout a certain vitality a song bursting free that escapes and echoes frantically rebounding against victorian tenements layered hillside slums bay view villas and towering financial battlements high glassy cliffs slice through the lifting streaks of fog encouraged by some spirit passing will at sunrise sometimes reflect ghostly heaps of blackened rubble that once lay scattered where now the pigeons feed illusion weaves into the freeways traffic chant echoes of buffeted canvas sails blown taut above listing tar stained hulls below the wooden masts sleeping vessels creak and moan now lost in dreams forever left to rot when their riotous sailors spilled into the glittering mother lode building a drunken babylon that collapsed and burned in a splendid raging conflagration looking down today from any rocky hill into such busy confidence behold how serenely placed between clouds and sky and a glittering grey-green sea this city holds its heart high aloft like a signal flare marking the end of a seekers quest promising even a turbulent outcast a quiet shelter from restless schemes somewhere in the plunging quilt of streets love is found life exchanged faith renewed lies told bodies fall and hands reach out like quicksilver sinking into fissures tantalizing expectations bleed away leaving a lightning bolts path in memory here love is an old desperate need a fairy tale dream a dizzying belief and on the streets every smile seeks reassurance that everything still remains and in darkened tenement rooms under ceilings cracked and aged every kiss tries to reunite the lost who will forever search for peace and above beneath and around it all the slumbering earth wraps a hand loosely around time itself throwing every minute into an overburdened eternity because the next second might really be the last the sun the fog and the sidewalks merge into a milky twilight haze and this city awaits tomorrow for contributions offerings embellishments of the myth at night the moon still brushes the skyline with silver light the power here is graceful brooding in the alleyways brazen where civilizations spill together and blend like a thousand cans of paint thrown suddenly to the floor and those who are chasing after beauty believe it still can be found blooming amid this city whose grandeur is vapor whose souls refuse to grieve and somehow cling to good

Submitted on 2006-04-01 11:36:32     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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