The Point of it All (or Sexy, Sexy San Francisco)

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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