BAY AREA STEW -
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A spark lifts up from a meadow in Golden Gate Park.
Photo by Weebly.com |
Golden Gate
by Charlene Anderson
A spark lifts up from a meadow in Golden Gate Park.
Flames lick and lap through the dry grass, and crackle, sizzle in the trees. The drought has made it even here: it now is everywhere. The Bridge hums. Engineers can’t figure why this latest retrofit made it moan and buzz, and maybe even sing. But something must have changed: the wind was always there. After a time of prolonged dryness, deadness, drought, the fire races through the Park, and soon surrounds, engulfs us; and the wind, screaming through the structure of the Bridge, tears into, through, the framework of our lives. This has always been a city of upheaval, not—as so long falsely advertised—of peace and harmony. With luck, the burning/blasting will ignite/upend, and cause the city, and our lives too, to fall to pieces once again. |
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