It was south of Market at seven
Emptied streets
Brick warehouses with nondescript names
You came up from the west
Just walked right over in heels and black silk
I was waiting for my bus
Your hair dyed a pale red--why?
You silently lowered your head
The loveliness cascaded as though to tell me
It was still you
But the dress the hair the elongated jaw
Your darkened skin what has happened?
Was it Florida?
We speak the words are familiar
But evaporate immediately in the fog
You come no closer and I don't get up
You found me here
That's something
The fog swirls and masks the dying light
Youths circle past as slowly as deer
They mock and laugh
Call the name of a girl we both knew once
She's been gone for years they are only saying
What the dream requires of them
Then merge with the dark
Falling down all around us now
It will be finished but not as we are
Without trouble I hear the bus gain speed
Rolling downhill to me
From the gigantic piers
Of the Oakland Bay Bridge

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