What an adventure! I slept in a king size bed overlooking Delores Park
in San Francisco, watched porno in a Monterey beach house and sunned
myself on a Lake Tahoe beach, and it cost hardly anything.
I had finally made it to the gay mecca--Castro Street. I was not entirely
amused, as this poem shows:
Sun
A park
A crescent of sun bathers
Soaking up strength and beauty
For the next night's encounter.
How ironic
That this ritual
This prayer to physical perfection
Transpires in sight of the bell tower
Symbolizing the defect in these bare bodies.
See
Bronze
Gold
Tan
Brown
Even olive
AS if to balance
The monotony
That comes with the distance
And isolation
Of minds gripped
By the competition of desire.
But I wanted me an adventure, and I set out to get it.