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Two for San Francisco

Updated on January 4, 2012

San Fran Fog

By A. Gagliardi

Fog dissipates slowly into the morning sun,

Only to come creeping back when day is done.

Muffled foghorns announce their passage from morn to setting sun.

Though silent or seen, ever onward they come.

Tones of church bells reverberate and echo

As buildings play peek-a-boo.

Vehicles are shadows, swirling the fog with their passing.

Cable cars mutely clang for riders straining

To imagine their transportation has come,

Wondering if the day is undone.

They run for the cable cars and yearn for the morning sun,

Only to come running back when day is done

Mass Transit

By A. Gagliardi

I chose public transport

To view the ebb and flow of humanity;

To check the tide-pool of San Fran

The coming in and going out; the in and out, and in and out.

The burl-lipped homeless whose coat drips with eons of street diligence,

happy to have a seat to breath the paying-customer air,

and ride nowhere more quickly than the endless shuffle of days gone by.

Coming in and going out, and in and out, and in and out.

Aged career girls with slashed, lip-sticked mouths

who arch and flex on dancer legs that swim inside their little girl clothes;

and wear their self-possessed assurance like hats over well-manicured heads

that flaunt the coming in and going out. The in and out. The in; the out.

Tiny Chinese ancients mumble incantations

and gum invisible vittles with toothless mouths;

with walking sticks that tap a three-legged rhythm as they

shuffle on and off, going in and out, and in and out, and in and out.


Step lively, now. Sit and sway.

Stand in honor of those less fortunate and gaze sideways

at their maladies, without conscious contempt or pity.

Watch their coming in and going out. Their in and out. The in. The out.



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    • agaglia profile image

      agaglia 7 years ago

      Petra, I am honored that you have read my stuff and liked what you saw. Thanks for your comment. I am interested in what you think of some others -specifically When baby sleeps, and could we just.

    • Petra Vlah profile image

      Petra Vlah 7 years ago from Los Angeles

      Where do I begin? Loved the title San Fran Fog and found it very inspired; short and intriguing, memorable because of the phonetics. Not only have I visited San Fran numerous times, so I can vouch for its specific beauty and unusual atmosphere, most of all I have a fascination with fog as a symbol and I have used the metaphor more than once in my own poetry.

      Both of your poems captures the essence of San Fran with sophistication and acute sense of spiritual relevance overwhelming the reader who is walking the streets of the old city having you as a companion.

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Really enjoyed these poems. I visited San Francisco a long time ago. Your poem reminded me of the 'characters' I saw on Market Street (? I think?). Thanks for the poem - beautiful imagery..

    • agaglia profile image

      agaglia 8 years ago

      There are two poems here about San Francisco. I wrote them the last time I visited. It is a town that inspires me to write. Don't be afraid to look around on this site. I hope you find something you like.