The Night that Rachel had a Religious Experience

The Night that Rachel had a Religious Experience

Grandmothers selling roses and eating enchiladas
A braided quarrel over the price of sweet yams
Base notes of urine, top notes of warm bread

I’m trying to be chill!
No, I’M trying to be chill!

Wrapping windows in cellophane
To keep out the sucking chill
Hanging out naked anyway

Ugly colored curtains left over, never drawn
How many people know our bodies?
Ducking from a school bus

Pastelerias, pastel lavender houses
Drug accelerated adolescence
Launching a hundred open mouthed kisses

Rin crying at Wise Son’s French toast,
At the precision of Levi’s folded jeans,
Waving at his eyes hello

Al pastor tacos for $1.75 leaving a light
sheen of spicy orange oil over lips
licked over like Bonne Bell gloss

Every pile of restaurant trash
A monument to itself
Seven purchases of emergency cigarettes

San Francisco is so fucking beautiful
I’m not sure I can handle it
I’ll probably get hepatitis making love to the city


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