The Point of it All (or Sexy, Sexy San Francisco)
so maybe the point isn’t
in bays of San Francisco sex
wrapped around the great
Treasure Island of Human Waste
where you can see the lights
of bridges leading always to the other
city across another bay
Oakland’s magnanimous display
west black east brown middle white
the most fucked-up Oreo in sight
but at least it’s diversity
(when women say they’re diverse
my Chinese-Filipino friend says
they should not want to “die-first”)
but that’s beside the point
that isn’t in bays of San Francisco sex
that I imagine tastes something like
sweet, sticky, buttery
chocolate strawberries
dripping syrup down my
all-you-can eat pancakes
that spell San Francisco sex
as religious as Sunday brunch
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