Tag: San Francisco

In A Waymo

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touch a screen, little jaguar steering wheel turns, autonomous ghost driver
i wave to the world through tinted glass & white paint
inside the robot i am jonah, trapped by this modern god
offers me music, urges me to buckle up
i am mortal after all
spared from uber or lyft, they will eventually disappear, with their needless human chatter
i am in control now, my app does it all, my phone controls it, controls me
i don’t have a name anymore, just initials perched on top of this vehicle
this thing
my new metal deity, my mindless destiny

How I Found Etta James In San Francisco

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late night, july, reading poem of the day, “megan married herself” by caroline bird, english poet, younger than me, fifth line- she strode down the aisle to “at last” by etta james, what do i know about etta james? (1938-2012), looking for connection, internet, internet, doo-wop, her love, my love, when? me, family basement, arlington, virgina, listening to smooth vocals with my father, 1981, etta, between ages 12-16 in the fillmore district of san francisco, 1950-1954, her group the creolettes-connected to creole- a mixture of european, african, and sometimes native american heritage, me, lived at 1550 fillmore in 1996, not creole, but i mix, time, place, words, people, takeaway? we walked the same pavement, liked the same music, never knew etta james, knew her a little bit.

If You Get Caught Between Nashville & San Francisco

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ditch the politics, keep the people, americans both, but yes, they are different, things people say in tennessee but not in san francisco: i know some good fishing spots, have a blessed day, by the grace of god, bless your heart, thank you for your service, y’all gonna drive to the beach?, i remember that leann rimes’ album.., y’all gonna get some hot chicken?, y’all been reading your scripture?, you applying to UTK?, beat bama, she went back to the lord, but in tennessee no one ever says: i’ll order a waymo, he works for apple, google, genentech, fill in the tech blank, i’m buying a rivian, you surf?, my vinyasa class was SO hard, i went on a meditation retreat, i’m going to talk to my therapist about it, i’m going to LA for the weekend, do you want to get burritos?, its snowing in tahoe, the fog is in, people ask me to compare and contrast, and here’s what i might say: i like tennessee because people are more down to earth, even if someone is wealthy, it isn’t cool to act like you are above others, but in san francisco that isn’t always the case: i like san francisco because there aren’t any chiggers and straight-line wind storms looking to wreak havoc on your body/home, so to bring it back to christopher cross, i live in san francisco, but both places are home.

Gazing at Longevity Peaches

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this is that poem, the one where the writer visits a museum, stares for a long time, tries to transcribe, translate, imbibe one artform into another, so here i am, san francisco, qi baishi, his peaches, better than super mario bros., ty cobb, safeway’s produce section, sickly sweet del monte in a can, better than ice cream, shout out sarah mclachlan, maybe not better than ice cream, but i’ve never seen frozen dessert so delectably hung on a wall, and to think he lived (1864) & died (1957) fully immersed in art, the way i want to swim in letters, inspiring, the colors, the colors, spheres, juice-filled suns on earth, made by human hands, human hands.