shorteyes

The Ballad of St. Francisco.

If anything could have stopped me from
Doing what I am to do,
San Francisco has told me that
It could only have been you

No sooner than I stumble cross
This, the perfect ledge to leap off,
In fairytale fashion you,
Almost accidentally,
Splash the city with your smile.
And having taste the sweetness that
Your hair tosses about,
The wind no longer welcomes my
melancholy march around
The edge of memories.
And every avenue I ever knew
Has turned its back in vow to you,
Never again to give their aid
In escaping forgotten feelings.

The bay hears now your pleading song
And calls upon its ghostly guard
Who crawls across the water and
Stops - Standing at attention.
Waiting, that your eyes might call
Him swiftly to my rescue,
Pale to the notion that

If anything were to stop me from
Doing what I am to do,
It would have to come embodied by
The name and face of you.

The eyes of setting smiles
Collected by forgotten dreams,
Given to the east, their owner,
Who pretends not to listen
But the whole time dropping ease,
He throws them from behind a building
And towards the clouds they gleam.
Where once a tributary for
Loneliness to drift ashore,
People now pass dancing through
The streets that youve infected.
The world seen through their experience
Is no match for your perspective.

So alone I sit with my despair
Now even more so than before,
Youve not left me one wandering soul
With whom I have to share.
Youve lent desire a worthy name
And now my days will be spent in search
Of she who shares my disposition.
In as little time as my choice came
It left, and old Francisco knew
You had made me, my decision.

-Acosta (2003)