A hill with faces

and sidewalks,

green shoes and sneakers

without laces,

chalkboard menus,

peppers and onions

and bicycles passing

apartments with yellow

shutters and

terracotta pots with

flowers reaching over

touching heads

as buses crawl

and street cars

sing the cables and

pulleys stretch,

the youth laugh

with tan skin and

soft faces as they walk

on checkerboard tiled

floors to diner seats

red like blood

and smooth from late night

yawns and tears

where waitress’ with

crooked name tags

and broken pencils

sketch out names of meals

on green curled pads

of paper

while outside smokers pass

and dogs sniff

as a guitar

drips salt air notes

of jazz

onto Divisadero Street.



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