Tenderloin Streets

Fires, flares, warnings and blares…
These cities raise hairs
and increase bus fares.

Catastrophe — jeopardy —
streets sweet with burglary…
The cops run a nursery.

The mind
does intertwine
with this crime
and finds
that it pines
for the divine.

It is and always will be —
uncontrollable mystery,
drinking our history,
stirring our chemistry.

Fires, flares, warnings and blares…
Flat and broken stares;
the city says it cares.

February 2004, written while working in the Tenderloin District of SF

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s