*** (as baby draws near i've been feeling more and more nostalgic... here is a poem i wrote about a memory i have of friendship in san francisco...)

it

it's as old as the vintage shoes you once wore.
Then the yellow dresses with red and orange peonies splashed across visions
and brick laden sidewalks with walkers and the smell of stale cigarettes.
Squinted eyes in furry-- strained-- then waned.

and glints of white spots with blindness made memory forget.

Purple stained teeth sprinkled with the smell of fresh sangria-- then real with
lemons floating far beneath.
Stained and yet worried.
Would it flood or fade?
Picture screens and justice scattered along the bay.
For what you can't see you can't erase.
Subconscious love-- then grief-- and a window scene.
Sabotage-- the unwelcomed imaginings.

For once imagined-- cheap.

It came to me the feather, lilies and sweets. You're red and freckled.

Nostalgic happenings overwhelm and escape.

One step.

And stunned.