Goodbye San Francisco Girl
Dark gray streets. The fog would roll in. As tears would dry on my face. Because they would fly straight at my heart. It didn’t matter who. Male. Female. Those in-between. Weak in the knees, I’d be. Punk rock. Riot girls. Dark knights and maidens on the back of motorcycles. Lots of beer in dark alley pubs on the way to the dive. Live music. Spare tires. Homeless bums and yummy Mexican burritos. the occasional Tapas. The girls dressed in 40’s, going to the swing. Gentlemen in Cadillacs. I was cocooned in admiration. my love of artists. My love of the art. The fashion. The look. The Gay 90’s in San Francisco. I was in you. So in you.
Until I outgrew you. Your rolling hills and blue fields. Your sunny bayside and dark tunnels. Your rocky cliffs and dangerous skies. A land of simplicity and grace Once you were so complex and mysterious. Then I went too far in you. Too committed to you. So it became. A childhood lost outgrown overused. Good bye San Francisco Hello Los Angeles A land awaits me new. New loves new lives. Every song reminds me of someone new. Now I have to write about you My what a round about way I’ve come. Only to go back in again.
And one day I would outgrow you.
I fell for the girls. Not many, just a few, but wanted for the life. Not because militant feminism but because it was more colorful than the alternative. Strait. Basic. Poop.
I cut my hair off. Terrible idea. I grew it back. I went to gay pride. Every year. I read feminist literature.
(excerpt from my upcoming book working title, Sunglasses in the Morning.)






