SOUTHWARDS IN SONG

did I say the time we wrote a song together
in the old Chevy driving down to San Francisco?

dad actually grinning at the wheel and I the big boy
riding co-pilot with great maps spread across my happy lap,
the day unfolding like a fan of peacock feathers
through the bug stained windshield,
leaving Portland at 3 or 4 in the morning
because we all were too excited to sleep
and so let's pile in the car and head south
through the dark night and the many miles
into the magical beautiful arching city
and the Golden Gate---

Oh! the Golden Gate, you orange sun
emerging strong and sudden
from bluest sky
over infinite waters!

and our chorus of song belting out
‘California Here We Come’ crossing
the great bridge which seemed to represent
happiness or a kind of freedom not known at home--
and smiles, there were true smiles,
spontaneous,
amongst us then in the packed car.

yes we had these family vacation times
when the screaming and god-awful
tensions of sad desultory songs at home
dissipated for a blessed week
or two at a blessed time
and I looked at him soft
and breathed in my father's
face and being,
a good and safe man
for this while
who loved me and his life,
which was not always the case
back north in the grim rain
and day to day
of worry and wear.

This may tell why I shall always love
the city of steep hills on the bay
with its Chinatown, beatnik bookstores,
Italian coffeehouses and romantic cable cars
pulling us higher and higher
towards a slice of heaven
where ease and joy
and even singing at the table
over pasta and bread with real butter
in the comforting wooden booths
of North Beach prevail
without threat of punishment or shame.