San Francisco, 2003

I wrote this theme poem while living in San Francisco. Most of my work at SF State during the two years I went, along with the rare poetry books, were destroyed- thrown away- so I could board a plane. I don't have the same brain that I did when I was 23, but I can do better now at 31.

1.
We melted into each other like colored candle wax,
warm like a child's day dream
intertwined in sleep.
I named him Arch Angel Gabriel,
but never knew his real name.
2.
Blond hair, platform shoes,
dirty receipts found on cement corners and gutters reading "number 365",
black men with guitars strumming to a secret rhythm,
red traffic lights leaving glowing lines,
caught conversations that say,"But after two lines of coke..."
3.
I don't belong here,
why should I change my clothes to have your love?
4.
Ah, these people are like trains,
strangers,
a procession without flowers,
a line at an administration building,
strangers.
I want to take hot showers with them.
5.
Women with protruding pelvic bones,
ivory flesh,
They may consume your soul and make you whole,
with an open mouth kiss.
6.
Break his nose-blood in a straight line going into his mouth,
what color red would come out? fresh over those lips (like a Spanish gambler),
the action gives him such a function,
clinging to my skin, under my clothes, under my act,
take my white glove and come home.