cable car

< Unity '08 | eighties music didn't all suck >

riding up the noisy Powell cable
the air smells oddly of fresh nova lox
with a slight fruity tang - from where?
as, out on the hill, dozens of iPods
walk determinedly past windowfuls
of lingerie and jewelry
living the history, still
of San Francisco

Tuesday, January 30. 2007
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Defined tags for this entry: california, poetry, san francisco

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