Electric overcast sky. I’m tripping with Doug and Derald, last Sunday, June. They’re impossibly beautiful, these two brown-eyed men, lit up by a new romance. We’ve abandoned the crowds at Civic Center for a patch of grass between the Opera House and the War Memorial. Sprawled on our backs we’re plugged into the Golden Gate, three Continue reading “Trip №3 by Brian Thorstenson”
JULY UNDER THE BRIDGE
on the shore the mock orange turned brown spent;
ochre heads of yarrow replaced them;
almost the way a man
swaps out one wife for another.
a protest, not my ex-husband!
but a husband.