Pictures of the known world
San Francisco, USA
24 January 2016
In search of overpriced quahogs
a poem for San Francisco
Above the walls of Alcatraz
And through the glistening bay,
The seagull soars and sings a hymn
Against the dying day.
Between the bridges and the cars
That stop to pay the toll,
She rests a moment by the pier
Awash in shades of gold.
She finds no fishermen in sight,
Just joggers and their dogs,
And shops that need to clear their stock
Like overpriced quahogs.
The tourists on Lombard street
Are twisted up in knots,
They’ve struggled up the steep incline
With trinkets from the wharf.
The streetcars only go so far,
The queue is quite the pain;
The seagull swoops and poops in glee
Her targets squeal in vain.
The city is no place for gulls
To rest their wintry heads.
A hotel room is far too lush,
the underpass her bed.
J & B play fetch
