Burning

A minor league ballplayer
In a minor league town
Never saw a cup of coffee
As big as the one I got in New York
First time I escaped the hotel room
To Greenwich Village alone
Out of Boston
Into the alley way culture
Of memory, now faded,
Now returned, here
In a San Francisco
With Vivaldi and the street traffic noises
Contending like two fire captains
At the burning
Of my building
Beneath the tears
Drowning ladders, sewers,
Ventilators
And the rush of airplanes
Overhead.

you're talking about 2 of my favorite cities....(NY, SF). I like this one.

Thanks, Sherry,

Peter

Good read Peter, there is something too busy about the city for my liking, give me Steamboat Springs or Asheville, N.C. anytime.


Les

Les,

I understand in my own way. I have lived in towns of less than 5000 at various stages in my life, and they do have their own appeal. Still, I am the product of big city living by birth and by choice, finding the variety and anonymity of city life my comfort zone. My greatest pleasure in San Francisco is interacting with people almost every day whose backgrounds are completely divergent from my own, only to discover that they know some of the same things I know in their own way.

Peter

Peter, I hear you, whether its in a village or a metropolis I believe what we all seek are kindred spirits.

Avanti!

Les

like alice in wonderland, eh?

-with love

An interesting clairvoyance there, Fickledlife, since there is an embedded pun on the nickname of the woman I went to New York with, whose given name is Alice. There is certainly very little actual biography in any of my poems, since I prefer to be more oblique, as Mary knows from many discussions of the matter here on the Mule.

amo et avanti,

Peter

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/08/2021 02:43AM by petersz.