This city

Taking the 6.40am down nineteenth
sped down the city
sun barely a rose
the world, an orange edge
houses facing the sun like first flowers
the air laced
with cold
my skin, prickled with the renewal of morning
squeezing this new life under my pores.
I kept the window open
feeling of morning as strong as at six
as I waited for sunrise cycling around and around the living room
past an ambulance's red and silver lights outside
an opened door
a darkened room
Perhaps someone died
I'll never know
speeding down nineteenth thinking of morning, and peace and life.
This city never gives
under that thin layer of morning fog
it is
oblivious
to the bums coming out of hiding from wild bushes.
The Golden Gate and the shrouded hills
looks on proudly, rising up over the gleaming bay
keeping its parts and people--
wrapped up in the silence and
this new light.
I wondered, about life, stories, and mystery
but this city never gives.

old things

I am someone who can't let go of the past
old name tags I hang on to
Back home there's a suitcase of memorbilias
hand-made cards with my name misspelled
crinkled letters of highschool crushes
I hold on to every one of them
even those signed by names no longer with faces
And then
there's you
sometimes,
I'll find you
nose a little alternated
smile a little crooked
the way you are folded up like old letters
always along the same folds
familiar like origami crane
I tuck you away in a suitcase in my mind
opening to peek when the mood strikes
the moon's too bright or the night too warm
then I look at you
your changing face
and I know this sad truth about myself
I am someone who can't let go of the past.

On being tamed

I know what Carlos means when he says--
"Next time we'll come back, without the girl."
He thinks
that I have tamed you
what he doesn't know is that
I have opened up the shells around my heart
for the gulls to peck on
and feel it trembling
so tender, easily bruised
that old anger
is gone
What you don't know
and I never told you
whether it's for your life or your camera lens
when Carlos pointed at that overhang where the grass grew
your legs trembled
and I
felt such indescribable joy.

One night

Do you know? There was once I prayed for you
walking that maze outside Grace cathedral
that you may
find love
I hope you did
and are happy

Mapping the terrains of the heart

Mapping the terrains of the heart
is a difficult thing.
Like untamed wild
you conquer it inch by inch
a foot at a time
a step, then another
with nothing
but a flashlight in hand,
its thin beam
quivering in the dark
to the calls of Coyote
as the grounds beneath you--shift--
like shadows,
you stumble,
praying--Oh God--
please
don't let that battery die

Maybe.

Spotting cabs
eucalyptus peeling red
grey clouds
blue mountains
black mush roadside tree
you say "it's eucalyptus"
"a cab" I say
whistling trails
"would you like to live here"
I tell you Hong Kong typhoons trembling metal shacks
sunlight pulling in
your camera bag jagged on my knee
can we do this again? You smile maybe.

Baker's beach

Old men. Scattered on the black sand
like
beached whales (that's it)
old prunes, BBQ pork
red, greasy.
white foam
tossed by the sea
the wind, beyond the damp line
Me.
pretending to read
that man! with the thong up the crack of his ass
that young guy with the nice body
oh man.
Men.
scattered on the beach