11/8/18
San Francisco, I'm leaving.
Don't say anything, okay?
I'll leave a note on the
Bathroom door, for you to find
When you get up.
Why do you wake up so early?
It's not like there's much
Ahead of you but cars and
Jade plants and stomachaches
And those long, steep hills.
Don't you make yourself queasy
And anxious? Don't you make
Yourself sick?
Look at you, doll.
Get out of bed, it's too humid.
Open the bay window,
Open your eyes, comb your hair.
Put a barrette or two in.
Your impulsive idleness is
Making you weary and bogging me down.
That's why I'm leaving, dollface--
That's why I'm leaving, San Francisco.
So get up and walk with weights
Up the hills.
If you don't mind, I'll take the car.
One of many, I'm sure I'll blend in.
If I don't, the noise will smother me,
Or else an earthquake or the smell
Of blue gum eucalyptus or the herds
Of dogwalkers will sweep me under.
Because dollface, there's not much
That's going on for you.
Walk up your hills, comb out your
Snarled hair, listen to the radio for once.
Or you can stay here asleep
In your plush empty bed
But either way I'm gone.
I'm gone, I'm lost in Mendocino,
I'm lost in the Redwoods,
I'm lost along the road itself.
Goodbye, San Francisco.
Maybe one day I'll be back.
YOU ARE READING
Hello, November
PoetryThis is a collection of my writings from November 2018. It's a continuation of "Poetry" and "Poetry and Writes", but will be much shorter. I'll try to write something each day of the month and post as I go--even if what I've written sucks. Who care...
