Cropped Up in San Francisco

when I knew you last
your golden baby hair
swayed like my breezy thoughts about you
and the great life you were leading
south of the border

sun-kissed skin's a far cry
from the rice and bean-curd complexion
that's stretched across your hairless head
and slouching in front of me at our point of reunion
this is what Zen has done for you?

your California crazed-up fantasies
can only be cashed in in L.A. you say
and you lead me to your one-eyed girlfriend
who's been baking bread since 5 a.m.
and just informed you she's pregnant
and happy about it

I play Pacman in the café
at the end of Haight Street
and think about Seal Rock and Alcatraz
eating jelly beans
one for each of life's little religions
you're somewhere else
on your knees with your eyes closed