Jane Warner Plaza glittered in the sun
at Market-Castro where the concrete cove's
red metal tables beckon those on the run
to stop, sit, admire that urban trove
and eat a sandwich, sip some coffee, light
another joint, or bare one, then observe
the passersby who gawk, express delight
as F-line cars rumble round the curve,
but then the city renovated the joy
a meeting spot reclaimed as thoroughfare
a skateboarder's dream absent a chair
nowhere to linger for a girl or boy.
They killed it, said a local in disgust
as litter's lifted high on a foggy gust.
June 2015
at Market-Castro where the concrete cove's
red metal tables beckon those on the run
to stop, sit, admire that urban trove
and eat a sandwich, sip some coffee, light
another joint, or bare one, then observe
the passersby who gawk, express delight
as F-line cars rumble round the curve,
but then the city renovated the joy
a meeting spot reclaimed as thoroughfare
a skateboarder's dream absent a chair
nowhere to linger for a girl or boy.
They killed it, said a local in disgust
as litter's lifted high on a foggy gust.
June 2015
