Labor day
Berkeley marina
staccato clouds
against bright
blue sun setting sky of six pm
silhouetted city shines
three bridge's cars lined up
people watching laughing
smoking as piano jazz plays
salt smells saline gulls
swarm along the fishing pier
no doubt satisfied with discards
like most of us who sit and watch
the whiskey sky now showing
through my scribbles soft
an hour later now and the shine
is on the sides of seven o'clock buildings
golden gates traffic sparkles
the ferry building can be seen at the start
of trees along embarcadero edge
birds gone from the pier now
yet cry from a distance filtered through
hip hop moments
eight pm clouds now pinkfeatherdrip
onto twin peaks towers
alongside barely audible Brahms
a few windows of boredom away
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