415.

Golden Gate Park

I climbed a mountain in four inch boots
the sea saw my back
before i turned around to return the gaze

the man down the hall never bothers to zip his fly

if i were one
on the wall of his room
i'm sure i'd see much more
of his checkerboard drawers

the weather drops
a purple sky on our laps
as the sun dips into the atlantic
i can see the bridge Kennedy bragged about
fading into smoke and mountains

he talks about his ex from inside of me