San Franciscan essayist and poet W.S. Di Piero has written an poetical rhythmic essay about his jaunts throughout this mounded metropolis a great many of us call home.
In it, he writes:
I brush my shoes, go out, walk up my hill, then up an even steeper hill where I get an open-fan view of the East Bay and the Oakland seaport’s horsy white shipping cranes, the most elegant public sculpture in the Bay Area. From there to the Castro is downhill and nearly all stairways, some that literally skirt people’s front doors, so down I go to the flats past the Castro Theater (if Josephine Baker were a movie house . . .) then down Market to the Safeway to pick up more lettuce and avocados (and vodka).
For those new to the city, Di Piero’s lyrical piece makes for a gleeful introduction to the native-poets way. It has inspired me to slap my feet on the inclined sidewalks even more, my storefront reflections as my mum, yet ever-so-prideful, companion.
To read it, click here.
