miyako73
07-03-2012, 06:57 PM
That August in San Francisco
Did not feel like warm Summer
Drying mists and precipitates;
The West wind gushed to cool
Sweating faces and lithe arms,
But I stayed indoors, my jungle.
My room gray from the windows
I shut and duck-taped around
Kept a mount of dirty clothes,
A pile of hamburger wrappers
And pizza boxes as tall and wide
As the bare, sagging mattress.
It was past two in the afternoon,
And it felt like hell and midnight,
Where I blindly tossed a penny
After getting dizzy from turning,
When I refolded the blue shirt
I bought at Goodwill for a dollar.
Did not feel like warm Summer
Drying mists and precipitates;
The West wind gushed to cool
Sweating faces and lithe arms,
But I stayed indoors, my jungle.
My room gray from the windows
I shut and duck-taped around
Kept a mount of dirty clothes,
A pile of hamburger wrappers
And pizza boxes as tall and wide
As the bare, sagging mattress.
It was past two in the afternoon,
And it felt like hell and midnight,
Where I blindly tossed a penny
After getting dizzy from turning,
When I refolded the blue shirt
I bought at Goodwill for a dollar.