Living Above the Keystone Korner, 1970
It
was hard sometimes just to close my eyes.
Uncle Gary took me to the rooftop to see
the Bay Bridge.
The view of the police station crushing
my childhood
with the gray weight of winter,
I asked Dad if we could move back
to 1522 Mason Street.
Uncle Gary took me to the rooftop to see
the Bay Bridge.
Hazy jazz coming through
the communal bathroom windows
in the evening,
I asked Dad if we could move back
to 1522 Mason Street
where Grandpa read the Chinese Times
and seldom spoke.
Hazy horns came through
the communal bathroom windows
in the evenings.
At 1522 Mason, Grandma made egg-yolk
sponge cakes
we washed down with tea,
and Grandpa read the Chinese Times
and seldom spoke.
My mother was always turning up
silently behind me.
Grandma brought us egg-yolk sponge cakes
we washed down with tea,
while the view
of the police station next door crushed
my childhood
with the gray weight of winter.
My mother was always turning up
silently behind me.
It’s hard sometimes just to close my eyes.