traversing haight street
your bare feet lightly slap the pavement.
the sandals slung over your shouldered bag,
swing to the sway of your hips
as your hair,
levitated in a moment of breeze,
tickles your bare shoulders.
street sounds purr and buzz and bang
through your ears to shape my thoughts.
your eyes turn toward a carload of tourists,
wielding their shiny Super 8.
you glance and shrug,
seeking out the gazes of the strangers around you.
you see them mirror your expression.
home movies cannot translate this experience.
thin meows float out of an open door,
kittens in a pet shop window.
you stare spellbound
moments later your fingers rest on the velvety head,
stroking the fragile ears.
you smell the remnants of weed.
i wonder if smoke has been blown at these tiny feline faces,
a stupid stoner pastime.
my thoughts, your connection of hand with fur—
this cat will not be abandoned to a lonely storefront.
we pay 5 bucks and you gently stuff our new charge in your shoulder bag,
feeling its weight.
a head pops out, still purring.
back on the street,
we are strangers in a strange land,
charlies in the chocolate factory,
frodos in lothlorien,
we are here now.
aware of our life in the illusory,
we dance in its colorful dream.
sharing sandwiches, smoking doobies, reading zen,
floating on music, bedazzled by light shows.
we are gloriously lacking in judgment.
utterly at one.
surely, it won’t last but nothing does.