On his 36th birthday


Yesterday in China
Chou En-lai was buried, while in San Francisco
George Moscone became mayor.

Today, lazy warm rain
falls through the eucalyptus trees,
and billowing clouds
explode in the sky above the Bay.

I walk down Telegraph Avenue,
my umbrella unfurled, like a rubberized
medieval knight, mistakenly armored
against a friendly element.

Having learned nothing
in 36 years, my great pleasures
impel me along: poetry, boys,
Renaissance polyphonic masses,
unemployment insurance, and
a new lover.

There are deserts of vast Eternity
before me and behind,
and what I care for most
is the long train of pale light
which follows the setting sun
on the coast of California.

 

 

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