An American Werewolf in Japantown

An American Werewolf in Japantown

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FP3JTYTYtTY&feature=related

“The wolf, I knew,
would lead me deep
into the woods”
—Carol Ann Duffy,
“Little Red-Cap,”
The World’s Wife

Something—happened to me

When I was in Japantown—last weekend

Taking a walk down the Hill—from Pacific Heights

I met myself—in the Kinokuniya Bookstore

I met my Other—American Wolfboy

My Wolfboy Double—Hippy Sixties USA

The smell of Eucalyptus—Patchouli oil
Craving sushi—starved for Lupus Love

The Golden Gate Bridge—view from the Hill

The smell of clean ocean air—from the Bay

Strolling thru Lafayette Park—that evening

Funny how nothing’s changed—except me

Bringing memories back—now to 2009

Earlier times—SF Gay Literary Renaissance

Giving readings—gay bookstores in the Castro
And now my Double—all these years later

Finding myself standing—stoned & dazed

By the Kinokuniya Bookstore—in Japantown

My favorite haunt—whenever I’d visit SF

Staying at the Miyako Inn—enjoying myself

The Bowling Alley—long gone now

The soothing sounds—muffled balls and pins

As I drank tea—and cruised all the cute

Young Japanese boys after school…

Funny how things—come and go

Literary Renaissances—a long time ago

The Boys of Michelangelo—how they

Come and go—come and go

There I was—in Japantown USA

Looking at myself—in the store window

Of the Kinokuniya Bookstore—looking

At myself—a relic from the Sixties

Standing there—calmly observing myself

Tilting back my head—for a minute or two

Pretending to doze—my eyelids closed

Empty with no questions—to ask myself

Other than knowing—myself dead

Deader than a doornail—in a coffin or

Stuffed in a vase—in some mausoleum

My Wolfboy ashes tossed—into the Bay

Nobody would say—nodding knowingly

A great poet has died—we’ll miss him

And so will—the great Male Muse up

There on gay Olympus—weeping tears!!!

Hardly my dears—let’s get real…

What’s standing there—in the Kinokuniya

Bookstore window—isn’t Miss Whitman or

Allen Ginsberg—or Hart Crane

I’m not one of them—I never was

I never could be—I didn’t want to be

Naropa bored me—Boulder waste of time
Allen Ginsberg’s—sharp transgressive mind

Stonewall came and went—just like all

The gay bookstores—have all gone kaput

Proposition Hate—continues to disenchant

Mormon boyfriends—they’re so cute

Sam Hamill—Rexroth’s Zen Brother

Continues to rally—all the Antiwar Poets

Refuses to take Tea—in the Rose Garden

We all end up—Trolls under a Bridge

All my gay friends—they’re gone now

Dead or assimilated—Metrosexual Inc

Metropolis USA—everybody’s married

I’m just a lowly Zit—on the Zeitgeist

Standing here now—in Japantown

In front of the—Kinokuniya Bookstore

What do I know now—I didn’t know then?
What did I know then—I don’t know now?

Other than being—bitchy & disillusioned?
Sun and Moon Press—pulped into oblivion
Thom Gunn gone—man with night sweats
And me—just another American Werewolf?

Here I am—locked up in Coit Tower
Like Marilyn Monroe—in Niagara Falls
Sprawled on the floor—my purse scattered
Trapped with my—distraught killer husband

.

What happened—to the story?

We were never—meant to fail

It's not meant—to be this lonely

We were never—meant to fail

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHYfQ6ytNjs