Poem #14/30: "Save Me San Francisco"

Today is Monday. And

I was born two days ago. I want to apologize but what for?

 

This strange betrayal

This lightness of being; the weight of my wet towel heart wrung over a city I thought would save me. April showers

 

in San Francisco

The weight of you, gone. 

 

Now cavity exposed I float down sidewalks we used to roam, young and hungry and wild; my sternum, the bottoms of my feet my indoor palms white and skyward - 

 

Hovering supine, the magician's assistant, human satellite weaving streets and alleys of SoMA, Telegraph Hill, Chinatown: maneuvering tourists and tech workers magnetized by sun and blue blue sky - 

 

I'm turning corners, skipping cracks

I don't think I miss you anymore

I've married the sun and the sidewalk.

I'm told this place can change a girl -