Love Poem

Just let the San Andreas
stay put, keeping this tunnel
intact, enough to amble
 
out of it, past Louie’s Dim
Sum a Saturday afternoon,
a breeze detectable off
 
the bay—visible in the distance,
carrying with it the smells
of open air markets:
 
crab freshly caught
and seahorses piled
in bins along Stockton . . . 
 
or Jack, strolling out of the tube
connecting Polk Gulch
and North Beach, on his way
 
to Aquatic Park to spread
the Sporting Green
on his favorite patch of grass . . .
 
He is ferrying the portable
radio to his ear,
listening for the count
 
in the bottom of the ninth
at Candlestick,
begins to smooth
 
the pages with the palms
before he sits
to keep it dry: the split
 
seat of his pants

                  for Jack Spicer (1925-1965)

Francisco Aragón, "Love Poem" from Glow of Our Sweat. Copyright © 2010 by Francisco Aragón.  Reprinted by permission of Francisco Aragón.
Source: Glow of Our Sweat (Scapegoat Press, 2010)
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