San Francisco

Contrails drawn like chalk
Crisscross against the clean, grey slate

Starlings swoop and, bottled up,
Defenestrate like Helen Hunt on angel dust.

Scared straight into place,
The shock and awe of all of our every day

Seized by speed bumps, bounced by bass bombs
Breakdown breaths confess that more is less, more or less

Down on the valley floor, the blow darts sway
It’s all too much to feel anyway

We float down sleeping streets
We speak in smiles and tip all the side view mirrors skyward

She sings Chris Bell’s Look Up with me and
The verse it shakes us loose and we laugh like fog machines .

Oleander everywhere
And as she braids a poison flower in her hair

And all of the sudden I wonder what the guy who wrote
Are you going to San Francisco is doing right now

And all of the sudden I wonder what the guy who wrote
Are you going to San Francisco is doing right now

And all of the sudden I wonder what the guy who wrote
Are you going to San Francisco is doing right now

Look up look up you’ll see his silent smile
His open arms waiting to love you