Parked on the Bay
We found the best parking spot in the universe.
On the edge of the bay in Berkeley
The sunlight glistens across the waters,
As the sailboats proclaim freedom,
The rush of the city is visible in the distance,
And we are directly across from the golden gate,
Viewing the chain links that tie this broad community,
From the city of my dreams,
To the city of my Jewish soul,
To the beaches of my inner explorer,
To the epic mecca of hippiedom,
To the city of protests,
To the city where I occupied,
To the city of opportunity,
To the wine fields and the growing grass,
To the happy cows and hippie souls.
I see you all from this place,
Hearing the train whistles of my past,
And the oceans in my future.
San Francisco where even the graffiti is friendly,
Where the few billboards you see are messages of positivity.
This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!