the fog
is home
to me.

I close my eyes,
I am still standing in Santiago Chile.
business people are
rushing back from the lunch break.
the outside restaurants
teaming with customers.
I look up,
the Andes Mountains are head of me
a weak pink fog veils them.
my mom turns to me,
‘honey, that’s pollution’
I’m glad we have the real fog
back home

I close my eyes,
I’m flying back from Atlanta Georgia.
my fellow San Franciscans and I
waiting to see our home, I almost tear up.
our water had gone out that Atlanta summer
and I remember there wasn’t a day under 105 there.
the fog looks so tasty
like I would be fully
refreshed and rehydrated
after only one bite.

I close my eyes,
I’m living in Boston for five weeks.
a storm passes by now and again.
the east coasters complain that
the fog is ruining their city’s
sunny reputation.
the southerners complain
that summer isn’t actually there.
I just smile and smoke,
I love watching the smoke drift into the fog
mingle, then disappear.

I close my eyes
I am standing in Rome
my family- taking cover in a store overhang
there was heavy rains and over cast
, but no fog ever descended for a meet and greet
on that day.

I close my eyes ,
I am looking at the tall slender buildings in Vietnam
along side the main highway of ** Chi-Man city
it is overcast- the storm last night brought down
a tree, crushing a poor shop with a sheet metal roof.
the overcast hangs, and I am feeling
a little nostalgia for home

I open my eyes,
I am back in the sunset district.
I’m laying on my reservoir,
looking out at the Pacific Ocean.
the wind blows inland
whatever weather on the westward horizon
blows in in a couple of hours
the fog sits at the horizon gathering itself up
for it’s long strut to the beach
and I wave to my old friend
it’s good to be home.

the heart
eros
makes leaps and bounds
the mind
follows

screaming and crying, not on the outside but soon
I found it dad
I found your baggie of ****
the SF muni rolls past Mariposa St
I did not want to believe it
when I saw the make shift bongs
not ****, bongs
how many of the ******* things do you need

I know it’s big in the gay scene to smoke **** before ***
but I thought you could find other ways to enjoy yourself
did your new boyfriend wean you on to it
I’ll ******* **** him
lock me up, I have always wondered if I would like solitary

you brought the make shift glass pieces to thanksgiving
you don’t even live with us anymore
but you brought it anyway
the SF muni scoots past Wawona St
guess you needed your fix
guess your kids, the genetic bits of yourself, were not  entertaining enough

I could always think
naw, I bet he is smoking hash out of those
but then I found the baggie today
in a long rectangular bag I found the shards
I cried in horror
there was room for more than 10 grams of **** in there

so now I’m on the bus headed home
I run from the bus stop all the way home
all out sprint, hoping to run myself docile
It does not work

I get to the house and find a hammer
I decide to unload my anger on an old wooden door laying on the side of the house
I get a few good swings in before the hammer head breaks off, flying across the back yard
I’m not calm yet
I get to our garage door
and I snap

I see red, I scream my throat raw and I kick our garage door
I do not expect it to cave’
but it does
I feel the weight giving out against the sole of my boot
for the first time today, I am winning at something

I kick
I see my father
I kick some more
I see my father’s addiction personified beneath my boot
It’s face miming the expression, ‘Sorry, not sorry’

I give it one final kick and inspect my handiwork
I’ll have to come back out with a different hammer to fix the door before my mom comes back home from work
****
I thought I was a calmer person than this
I go upstairs and pass out
I want you to see my grandkids, dad
you won’t be able to while on that ****
I walk by or open my garage every day
every day I think about how such a beautiful man could come to a place where **** is the answer

she gave me a blow-job on the beach
so we got back together
nothing changed…******* always comes out

It’s taken some months
but I'm am reptilian again
not traditional
,but,
there are no traditional humans.
advertisers want you to think there is an average,
you are different,
that is how they make their money,
so I sit and stare into black and smile,
and think how I have been fooled

I smile wide
wider than I think possible
the webbing of my mouth cracks

I am comfortable in darkness
because
it is the only place I can truly meditate and grow
maybe one day this will change, right now it is true
I have figured the key to attractiveness; unapologetically go after what you want, period.

Quickly,
I wanted to tell you something
You were born in a place, you did not choose
Where you are, is because of an accident
So do not feel obligated to give them an inch
The boss unfit to lead a workplace
The politician out of touch with the common man
You do not owe these men a thing for your accident
Your job is to live
Not to give into their demands
For their profit
For their pleasure
For their God
For their sadistic greed
You are beautiful
Seek likened minds
-For they are your greatest assets in achieving your happiness
Do not be blind
-For the people, denied of the streets, are growing restless
You are beautiful
May the inner voice of this reading dry at least one tear
If you have not heard it in a while
I love you
I love you and you are special
I love you because you are proof that art is natural, and, 
It started when you were born-
You are,
Where ever you are,
Walking, Sitting, Breathing Art

We sit in a circle after
In my living room
I am talking
How my ex who
I can not help but
love
was ***** during this last Halloween
How another girl
who met another night
was corned
One kept watch
blocked off the section of the house
She was ***** by a window
She could look out
See the other partiers
Why was this happening
I cry
I tell them how
I feel helpless
I cannot protect the women I love
While I’m talking about this
He is handling his ****
with sick pleasure
right ******* next to me
I don’t know it
but he is
thinking about
the girl
last night
and
the ones before
their screams and their blood
how he had gotten away with all five
It had happened to the victims before
they say reporting
Does
Not
Mean
****
I don’t know it
but he is thinking of his next victim
My mom