No sticks no packages
This isn’t terra incognita
I know this place the coolness
of the
winds off the ocean that
do not ever
stop in reminding me
of that skirt that went up high
of that walk through the Tenderloin
in the deep of twilight
one without a gun or guile just two
hapless people who had no idea what kinds of
mischief that they had unleashed
by playing in the
Devil’s playground
of the City at night
The whole city was ours
it was and will never belong to others
regards of what Ferlinghetti the Beats the
queers the longshoremen the
patchoulied hippies the cioppino
makers might have to say about it
But we had no shame
then
just sweat and love
a kind of misbegotten romance tangled up
in professional clothing in
per diem in recklessness
I feel we burned the town down again
earthquake style
by leaving the state
breaking all the mains
while we took no heed of our future
by breaking the hearts that got us there
I drove back onto the peninsula innocent of the
trap you laid for me
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it was the scent of the Blue Gum in the air
how was I know that the redolence of your
eternal mousetrap was always going to lure me away
from sensible things?
Who was to know that your
profile, forever foreign
never more than that of
a girl from
Reno
would just be one more visage, one more rock, one
more piling for me to pile up on?
For me to cross that bridge
will awaken something
that will only bring on tears
the rending of garments
and perhaps
a bag of
dim sum
will possibly
help me bridge my past
to this not so certain present, to the tune of some unwanted
future song
an earworm
that I can’t seem to shake
I wanted more than anything for my
olfactory nerves to
short out when I found those stands of
eucalyptus issuing forth
your demonic odor
instead I found myself stuck in traffic
whispering to the foul gods that brought me
here
for salvation and
a touch more of your
ocean borne
scent
on my clothes.
Love, Cat
