North Beach Hustle

California light shine so bright:
Skaters and fakers
Bar dwellers and coffee drinkers
Walkers and dragon dancers
Orchestral maneuvers
Down Kerouac Alley.
Filbert Steps
Break neck steep
The evening starts to
Creep creep creep,
Silhouetting palm trees
Sending people hurrying
Trying to get in
Before the night fall
Brings out the creatures
Who thrive in the dark
Who hunt and hustle
And bark at each other
While crab pots boil
Oyster eaters toil
Over shells on
Sawdust floors
Drinking screwdrivers
Pints of guinness
Hair of the dog
That bit them on
The ass last night
In some North Beach 
Bar. None of it survives
Until the morning
When the City wakes
Shakes off the smoke
The steam that rises
From the sewers
And all the desperate
Cries of pain and hate
And all things that
Cities feed on
And so live on
Way past human
Reckoning. 
Hunter S Thompson's
Shirt hangs behind the
Bar of the Buena Vista Cafe
Bottle of Chivas half full. 
Cafe Trieste sadly strikes
Time day after day.
And Beat Poet wannabes
Pretend to be sitting
With Jack outside 
Vesuvio wondering
How it felt to be 
On top of a world
That sought to destroy
Them for everything 
They believed in. 

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