49 scenic drive brainstorm

The empty bottle of Corona holding a message of peace;
The post cards of 49 scenic drive Chinatown night life and the trolley on a one way street. The sun over the city with a blanket of clouds cradling Golden Gate bridge..
Were all kept in boxes before love moved in..

Cassettes of old, some with songs of my own;
books of Spanish verbs and lyrics all to help me understand my other side,
the art of war to help survive, the cold long war ahead of me.
But I find comfort in these artificial things,
orchids that create imaginary redolence around my desk..
look a little closer, it's just one of Aromas's
fragrances; incense made by a poet, sold with piece of poetry..
who would ever noticed me if I stayed in my imagination,
like one of God's creations camouflaged in the sand; who would understand
what it takes to leave this land far from what is known, far from what I am;
but to awake in place of fog, is where I want to be; will lead me to who I want to be
and to whom I want to be with.

Yesterday two friends of mine where married on the sand
close to the beach.. the water not far from their feet; I sat in the sand and played guitar; played chords of Apollo's whispers, accompanying the orchestra of life; sounds of the ocean; sounds of birds; sounds of laughter; sounds of wind. Everything has a sound, everything but time; as they took off in the direction I long to travel,
I was driven back to my home in the south, down 49 Scenic drive, looking up all the time, I kept the sun in my mouth and only thought of the Northern sky.

-Eric D. Hanlan