crooked streets
curve into the night sky
San Francisco 1 AM
Drag Queens whistle
we’re ready
as the jets rumble on
and the voices
pour out of the bars and cafes
cash registers
and wheels
all over a nation
action is life
bright colors of clothing
always that voice and moans
at the Flea Bag Hotel off Market
Thirty years kicking death in the Ass
The fool is never ready for recognition
He is