Arrival SF

Arrival and up the escalator
The sky is bright with only a sliver missing from the moon
It's only Wednesday night but the city is alive in a quiet sort of way
Hushed conversations at little sidewalk tables over half filled beers, and wine glasses aching for more
They all look so pretty in the chaos of their vestment.
All the usual places, but the taste of something new stands out unexpectedly in times of greenback woes
But the people here heed the precarious way
There is life to be lived, places to be, stories to be shared and a city stage to be played upon
I walk the new streets shining little embedded sparklets like mini diamonds thrown about my feet
I am reminded of that which was once so everyday to my life but is now a chapter behind. No need to relive it, but I read back upon its pages to revive an ideology that set my being alive.
I am a stranger, but just the same the king of these streets. I tagged the walls here once with my story and I am comforted by the mark I have left.
I will go to see my friends now, to commune in our memories and to formulate new ones for the next free days ahead.