Blinking (yellow) bell, dinging. Open. Close. Deposit fee.
The fairer side of things, the slide of red jello lit streams
touches my chest; I feel it in my gulp. There's a woman
closing the window above her head, closing out the cold
bay air, "east bay" air.
O, metallic structure, O, false craft. Your beams over-linger,
trap, over-trap. My zenith, we turn. Together into a tunnel,
we turn. And your legs open, widening arms outstretch.
Steel chords soundfully center the shifting weight: the world's
bulging curve.
Lights in the city. A water of glimmer. Port of S__ F________,
ruby and glare. Greenish buildings stacked in a crowd out-
compete their predecessors, hundreds of years before. An
expanse of ocean shoaring at the coast, shaking hands in
greeting. Later there will be a toast.
