bus to the wharf, san francisco.
and i feel like i'm living life - all these people. i'm relying on public transit, yet making my own fate there's the green and blue freeway signs and the 1920's red of my nail polish and i'm writing too fast for myself the girls behind me talking about drunkenness and father's purple wine teeth oh the wine in excess i can imagine a large man gulping the cabernet from goblet. tom petty keeps me company which is weird because i'm surrounded by people - its reminding me of europe, this solitary travel transit; roadways, trains, planes, sidewalks walking, now we're crossing gray sway bay bridge and a sign for treasure island the real imaginary place. a zeppelin hovers to my right floating out of the clouds the fog and gone again in another moment. i now see coit tower, i see trans america building and oh my heavenly sweet golden gate, a sailor's sky beautiful out west beyond painter's blue, fake looking clouds, bright red smoke stacks of old days painted points. and tiny sailboats.
columbus and la boulange encore oh i remember gary talking about the tenderloin.
and i feel like i'm living life - all these people. i'm relying on public transit, yet making my own fate there's the green and blue freeway signs and the 1920's red of my nail polish and i'm writing too fast for myself the girls behind me talking about drunkenness and father's purple wine teeth oh the wine in excess i can imagine a large man gulping the cabernet from goblet. tom petty keeps me company which is weird because i'm surrounded by people - its reminding me of europe, this solitary travel transit; roadways, trains, planes, sidewalks walking, now we're crossing gray sway bay bridge and a sign for treasure island the real imaginary place. a zeppelin hovers to my right floating out of the clouds the fog and gone again in another moment. i now see coit tower, i see trans america building and oh my heavenly sweet golden gate, a sailor's sky beautiful out west beyond painter's blue, fake looking clouds, bright red smoke stacks of old days painted points. and tiny sailboats.
columbus and la boulange encore oh i remember gary talking about the tenderloin.
1 comment:
oh,
thank heavens you've arrived
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