by Carol A. Cassara
Appeared in the poetry journal, Waterways, Summer 2013
In an alley behind a bookstore in North Beach
the ghost of Jack Kerouac
walks
restless
through a pungent veil of incense
whispering whispering
walk to the edge
Spirits haunt these streets
listen closely for their whispers
beneath the clang of cable cars
Behind the gates of Chinatown
mystics stir potions, conjure
wisdom
sage advice
for those who can hear
In the colorless dawn chill
wet mist
puddled on walkways
dries in the rising sun
Spirits slip behind shadows
to sleep
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