every morning i drive by ben & jerry’s
haight-ashbury, hippie history
he sleeps on sticky stairs
remnants of mint chocolate chip, the
sugary smell underneath sleeping bag
comforts his drunk, drugged out body
pressed against concrete like
ice cream against waffle cone, but
this isn’t dessert, i think
of the hundreds of tourists’ feet
smiling, licking
walking on his bed
The College Visits Have Begun! PS-That is Mt. Tam in the background.
For you, dreamer of June, wildflowers in bloom.
A Brief Willie Mays Story: My Uncle was African-American (former Baltimore Colt/Army Officer/Doctor of Education). Willie Mays needed two more people for a round of golf in San Francisco. My Uncle and his friend agreed to play. Before starting, my Uncle and his friend decided to pretend that they didn’t know who Willie Mays was. They made it to the 4th hole, when Willie says to them, “Say Hey, don’t you boys know who I am?” My Uncle told me that Willie Mays was a great guy. Perhaps the greatest baseball player of all time. Rest In Peace…
Our new neighborhood! So quiet…
Daniel W. Polk 