Meditate on Beats
at Ferlinghetti's old haunts --
Calcutta no more.

A lonely tourist
at a Haight street laundromat
missing socks and you.

 My museum legs
driven by adrenalin
do Tai Chi (sort of)...
 

A flophouse mattress
once spooned the arc of his back
whispering his name.
 

Big bowls of caffe --
San Francisco is Paris
without the French men.
 

Their typewriters click --
letter bombs pockmark the air,
black nights, white paper...
 

The dog sniffed his crotch
inside a "Painted Lady"
as he sipped white wine.

Shooting up haiku' --
poetry is better than acid...
Let's drop another!

Over bay laurel
butterflies flap lingerie'
black and delicate.

Quietly we sip
ginger and tamarind teas
baptized by the wet.
 

Crisis on Castro!
Have all the sequins dried up?
Where are the drag queens?

Bare feet in the Haight.
Chicken feet in Chinatown.
His feet on my back.
 
Vampires on buses --
every city has them.
"Remove your teeth, please."
 

San Francisco wash:
Two socks in and one sock out --
Richard Brautigan.