Sunday, August 17, 2008

Sutro and the Past

Walking the Fog

We walked the fog
weaving patterns within
the tall grasses and dill
looking for bits of glass
bits of brick in the rubble
of my father's dream.
We walked
on narrow walls of concrete
rust forming jagged teeth
framed in skeletal jaws
bathe in sea water and silt
Sea birds screamed against the rising tide
raising memories
my father telling me
gulls were the souls of the dead...
I believed it.
We walked the ruins
old Sutro's past glories
whipping up the mists
bathing our faces with that same water
that fed in from the tides
through the tunnels
pulling and pulsing
arteries of the huge pools
pumping millions
of gallons
of sea water
filling the tanks
during the day
and then
into the long
lonely nights.
The ghosts walk
slipping through the green depths
gliding past the pump house
holding a brittle hand to your face
catching warm breath
in cold fingers
as you pass by the brick stairs
leading to no where.
We walked
the dark
the mist waiting
for us
at tunnels end
the booming
of the surf
pounding rock walls
crashing on the staircase
washing brick and sand
down cliff faces
pummeling our hearts
with its heart beat.
We walked the fog.....
San Francisco, CA
Monday, Auugust 11, 2008
Copyright 2008

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