Pythons
Busy day of San Francisco sightseeing:
riding the Muni Metro N-Train,
transferring to the F-Line Streetcar,
walking up Broadway to Columbus
and into the famous City Lights Bookstore
(I actually met Lawrence Ferlinghetti
when I was here 14 years ago,
he signed a couple of his books for me),
then across the street
to the Beat Museum (closed, damn).
Then we continued climbing the steep hills
rising like pythons up to Mason Street
to the Cable Car Museum:
amazing watching these huge
whirring spinning wheels still powering
ancient cable cars like they did 130 years ago.
Outside, one of the cable cars
becomes stuck at the corner
so we climb on, pay our $5,
sit down as it gets push-started
and we ride the fattened coils
of the giant undulating python hills
back down to the bottom
where we enjoy a lovely lunch
at the Boudin Cafe (as I waited for
my pain pills to kick in)
then took the N-Train back to Dave’s.
“I need to lie down,” she said,
her eyelids heavy as hens.
When I went in later to check on her
she was sprawled out languidly
across the bed on her tummy,
one leg bent at the knee,
one arm stretched out above her head
like she’s picking apples off a tree.
