sat on poetic stairs.
sang in Castro bookstores.
punched a car.
San Francisco is a good friend of mine.
the lime tree
still laughs at me,
growing in time,
one day mine.
Let's have a glass of wine,
now lets have another glass of wine.
one.
two.
three.
four.
love(s).
don't get drunk
too much
as to kiss the streets
that Kerouac kissed.
I am skid row, too.
the west coast
seems to hate me,
but I love to visit it.
back in time,
some Suzie
found out
about me.
tattoos and dancers.
how's about telling me a story?