It was too crowded,
Too much bro contact,
So I walked outside
Into the cloud
Of cigarette smoke
And the pesticides
Therein,
A man in
A black jacket
Was standing
Back to wall
Too drunk to walk
With a pall mall
In his mouth
Too tight to talk,
But talk he did,
He told me what
His father did,
He painted that mural,
And others around
The city
And I think to myself
I’m sorry,
But that ****
Looks ******,
Or something witty
Like that
Pops out of my hat,
I mean mouth,
And it’s remarkable that
This dude has to share
The accomplishments
Of his father to seem
Interesting,
And I wanna say
So bad (too sad)
That those are the glories
Of your dad,
But what have you done?
You got drunk at
This bar that
You visit every weekend
And told a skeptical
Stranger a story.
So I walked away,
And as my feet
Brought me around
On their whims
I passed by some bricks
That were sealed in a wall
In nineteen oh six
And I realize
My father’s
Life as a worker
Isn’t working for me,
So I think I must leave
My job at the factory
And pursue my dreams
Of melting away
In the sun someday
Along San Francisco Bay.