lovely Sunday ok let’s con
centrate in the park its mis
begotten pink new year’s
balls flying into the fogbottom
rode its giant cypress-like prick
all the way up to Rhode Island
where trees with Woonsocket-pink
pools out-puncture the girls
then we have dessert at Grumpy’s
our shades a mirage of fog and
fountains on the ridge of hope
where I plant my feet “I’m grounded”
more ground than you fog
that ate the Golden Gate Bridge
probably more than you fog
in the street in front of Postrio
I’m a little nervous because it’s
snowing and so I thought we’d
drink more muscat for the pleasant
rise up the Filbert steps less pleasant
with each new step a new sweat
and then later we go ROLLER
SKATING how romantic -- isn’t that
pretty darned romantic no?
it’s the first day we don’t talk
which makes Lombard almost pinkless
but rollerskating -- wasn’t that just
delicious? yes it’s way past 1998
the girls keep asking for more
“GQ action here boys” and
Buddha says “is there room in your life
for one more trip to the moon?”
