Tag: San Francisco

Capitalist Reborn

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Can two San Francisco teachers (husband & wife) raise two children, pay a mortgage, property taxes, & save money for college? Um, no. Would I love to live a life of teaching, meditation, contemplation, & poetry writing? Sure. Can I afford to not be a capitalist? No. Therefore, I’ve gone back to the summer of 1991, when I was a baseball card hustler, hitting up leads, buying & selling cards wherever I could. After that humid teenage July, I never aspired to join the “rat race,” never had an interest in entrepreneurship or corporate America. My junior year of college, I even did a finance internship in Santiago, Chile, just to make sure that I truly hated international business. But the world turns, idealism dies, & it turns out that my love of baseball history & a mildly photographic memory can create profit. So Adam Smith, I’m back.

Playing Centipede

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I recently went to the Musee Mecanique in San Francisco with my son. The place is built for nostalgia. Everyone I knew in the 1980’s had at least one video arcade game where they could dominate. After spending many quarters up and down the Rehoboth Beach Boardwalk, Centipede became my game (along with Galaga/Galaxian & Zaxxon). You see the DAN in the photo? The kid can still do his thing!

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.