Tea Room

Sitting under the arbor
at the Samovar tea room
overlooking the Yerba Buena gardens,
the fountain
and the well-muscled buildings

Suddenly we look up
from our moroccon mint
and Earl Grey–

To a sound that seems louder than creation–

An urgent thrust of sky filling, infinity shrinking roar
rattling the cups, scattering the pigeons, scraping everything before it
like a bowling pin setter from hell,
rolling down the office canyons,
a hot arrogant wind…


…and again…

..and again…

It’s the fucking Blue Angel squadron
in town to show off
our collective prowess
at reminding the world
our dicks
are big and blue
and spray death
like the nozzle of God.

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