SUNLIGHT ON THE WATER

SUNLIGHT ON THE WATER

Sunlight on the water, here on the West Coast,
Back in San Francisco, we raise the glass and toast.
Toast our love and toast survival, toast the remnants of the day,
Toast the luxury of this life that Fortune's sent our way.

Sunlight dancing off the water, framed by the Golden Gate,
Freeing these two travelers, these prisoners of Fate.
Prisoners who have come so far, like aliens from outer space,
Soaking up some chilly rays, before our fall from grace.

The Coit Tower, the TransAmerica building, loom in the distance,
Alcatraz across the island, a relic from the fabled past,
As time it casts its shadow and rushes by too fast.

The sea lions purr on Fisherman's Wharf, fat and happy in the sun,
Basking in belligerence, they will not budge for anyone.
Panhandlers and peddlers, the native and the transplant,
The people talking to themselves, the Hare Krishna chant.

The specter of all humankind, in its rich and varied tapestry,
The rich, the poor, the searching, the wonder of this magic city.
Some folks come to find themselves, to reinvent their lives.
Others try to run away from a shattered yesterday,
Hoping that for just this once they can keep the wolf at bay.
He's always howling at the door, he longs to wash up on some shore,
Where sorrows are unheard of and troubles are no more.

Where fog can stretch for miles and miles, and life is seen through mist,
Where a weary soul can find some rest and a measure of forgetfulness.
Perhaps a night of drinking at the bars that never close,
Peet's coffee and the native blends to rouse you from repose.

The flowers slumbering in their beds, along with human sleepyheads.
And sunlight on the sacred water, setting, fading of the light.
So long, San Francisco, on this our final farewell night.

-Bruce Potts
Revised Copyright 2014
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SAN FRANCISCO SUITE

GOLDEN GATE SUICIDE

I came to California,

Hunting down my death.

Weary of this lonely life,

Despair in every breath.

I came to the grandeur of this bridge

Staged my suicide,

And felt a quiet kinship

With the waters and their raging tides.

I heeded not the beauty of this city,

The architecture of this Golden Gate.

My soul was filled with blackness,

The world was full of hate.

My demons all yelled jump

And urged me to be bold,

And I flung myself from off the bridge

Into the water freezing cold.

And I did not use the phone 

To call the suicide hotline.

My plans were etched in concrete, 

An immutable design.

But as i fell to a frigid death,

I felt the crush of my regret,

Falling like a stone from this beautiful bridge.

I came to California, desperate and bereft,

Soured on this wretched life,

I cursed my every breath.

I beheld the grandeur of the bridge

And I staged my suicide,

A quiet thankful kinship

With the solemn raging tides.

I heeded not the beauty of the city,

I carried my darkness everywhere.

I came to this bridge and naked I fell,

Spilling the flowers from my sunburnt hair.

SCENES FROM A PARK

The Coit Tower as a backdrop,

The smell of the ocean and sea birds soaring.

San Fran beautiful and all a shimmer,

And you and I loafing at Fisherman's  Wharf.

This beautiful park with its flowering trees,

And the sunlight brilliant, not a cloud to be seen.

For the first time we touch in a public place,

The thrill rushes through me on this day so serene.

The flowers splash blazes of color our way,

Nature the architect comes out to play.

Such beauty unparalleled laid at our feet,

As the cable cars rumble by on the street.

The TransAmerica building graces the skyline,

And I am lost in reveries fine.

Here on this bench, hand resting in yours,

Two eager travelers awaiting their tour.

This charming moment, these feelings so rare, 

I gaze at your profile and can't help but stare.

And stunned by your beauty, your grace and your charm,

I reach out and touch you, my hand on your arm.

This beautiful park, this glorious day,

Two eager travelers carried away.

Sunlight is brilliant, not a cloud to be seen.

For the first time we touch in a public place

And the thrill rushes through me, a feeling serene.

ALCATRAZ

The beauty of the city looming in the distance,

Across this glorious vista, how punishing for you.

To see and know it can never be for you,

The city of rainbow flags and sparkles.

The grand taste of liberty wasted at your feet.

A tiny cell, a toilet,

A tome on loan from the prison library.

Time in the rec yard to savor the view

Of a city that can never be for you.

How your life drifted, how your dreams sifted,

How the years passed with you cloistered away.

Behind the iron bars the plans that were yours,

Flew like the seabirds and crashed on the ocean floor,

Never to be heard from anymore.

Alone in your cell the loneliness came,

How grim in the night it whispered your name.

And once a year on New Year's Eve, the silence was shattered,

And you could hear the revelry of San Francisco,

Booming their fireworks from that distant shore.

To hear that sound and know it can never be for you.

The city of rainbow flags and sparkles.

The grand taste of liberty, catching in your throat.

WOODS OF MUIR

Woods of Muir, with your redwoods bold that scrape the sky,

Magical forest with your shaded paths and hollowed out trees,

You create such a world of wonder.

I imagine a witch hurling fire at the scarecrow,

These trees turning angry, hurling apples at me.

I imagine my heart's desire,

Sweet contemplation amidst the cool breeze.

Woods of Muir, our bus climbed the mountain perilous steep,

And brought us to your summit of enchantment.

My lover and I beneath your shade hold our breath at your beauty,

As he snaps his pictures with carefree delight,

The sunlight through the tree leaves whets the appetite,

For an evening of love beneath your night stars,

Away from the city and the rumbling of the streetcars.

Woods of Muir, with your redwoods bold that scrape the sky,

My lover and I find our way to your sandy beach,

Stealing a moment of kisses sweet.

Magical forest, with shaded paths and hollowed out trees,

You create such a world of wonder.

I imagine a witch lurking in the brush,

With apple hurling trees that give a heady rush.

Where two Friends of Dorothy can feel right at home,

Grandly traversing your yellow brick road.

WOMAN IN THE CASTRO

I met a woman in the Castro,

Thin as a bird who wanted money.

Six dollars to get back in her room

Where she could lie down on her soft bed

And maybe take a shower and wash away the day's malaise.

She said she had terminal bladder cancer

And apologized for the way she smelled.

And could I please spare the six dollars

And help her just this once.

Well, maybe she was taking me, maybe I'm a fool.

But something about her touched my soul,

And I pondered on the Golden Rule.

I reached into my pocket,

And took five dollars from my wallet.

It was all the cash that I had left,

And I gave it to this woman bereft,

Because i believed her.

And she flung her arms around me and asked me my name,

And told me that she loved me and I told her that I loved her too.

i walked away believing every word she said was true.

I met a woman in the Castro,

Thin as a bird who wanted money.

I could feel the Parkinson's in my own body,

And I saw myself in this woman's stare,

I walked away blessed from this sacred encounter,

Feeling as though I were walking on air.

-Bruce Potts

Revised Copyright 2014

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED