"Late Summer Love" poem

Late Summer Love



Things never change
at the corner of Love
and Haight. Only the sky
changes, and why I love
you. When. Not this tree
with its sap full of promise,
not this wire connected to
your future, not these leaves
and leavings. Nothing ever
changes on the corner of Love
and Haight, despite the puzzled
dogs panting at the leash,
conforming to a language
of bread and howl, the enormous
flesh of the overeaters, the snapping
jaws of Kodak, the instant mail,
the buy and sell of the soul, The Fool
in the park, the Hierophant on his cell.
Leftover hippies lean on the trash
in Berkeley, the Barb locked deep
in the skull, and bones set into some
kind of craw. Over and over the muttering
goes, the light going out, the babble-
on kingdom come. But on the corner
of Love and Haight, the braided love
flows down the backs of the beautiful
boys now gone to men, the straight
backs and the missing teeth, a thing
of our passing. A moment's inability,
the still wait of the mockingbird's
thrill. And I'll see him there, one
unchangeability on the corner of Love
and Haight, and the messages will flower,
rose petals at the end of this season's
finale. Because nothing ever changes
on the corner of Love and Hate.
The rainbow stays the same no matter
what arc you ride on, and a dream
is fair trade on the corner of Haight,
and I'll find you, a tie-dyed vision
advancing, chance dancing in Love




Lorna Dee Cervantes
7/23/07
(Blue Front Cafe)