Circling Berkeley, Orbiting October

Flaneurian gold!

This all Berkeley week on The Flaneur

a constant wrestling with the angels

guardian or fallen 

a seismograph of the Zeitgeist

Tune in turn on

and drop off,

Starts off slow

but ends in a car chase

1.
Coming in,
coming in

Rockridge

here comes a red truck

I happen to know

it's a liquor delivery truck

always busy,

always in demand

Everything in fact

seems to be turning red

Our understated foliage

and etc.

Don't tie up an animal

and then forget

 all about it

Makes a great

revenant

It's to die for

Ain't no rehab

in the afterlife

Dead Elvis

The greatest dead celebrity

of them all

The DOORS reunite

in heaven

There's that creepy kid again

The young ones can

smell your fear

Early Trick-or-Treats

Window in a medical scene

I was having a CT scan

had to drink a great lake

of water to take part

Painting on a utility box

2.

There there

my dear

University Avenue

Disney Halloween Time

RAY by the way

has never been to Disneyland

It seems we have become

sort of a banana republic

replete with full corruption

and a criminal tyrant

at the top

You can't stop us

so don't try

A floral scene upstreet

Nice colors

A quirky store

for those who like

that sort of thing

I provision there

myself on occasion

mainly I buy Finnish licorice

and dark dark chocolate

(prevents atrial fibrillation)

Nice relief shadows

a pleasant time of year

despite the widespread burning

just North of us

Smokey streets again today

Holiday traditions

observed here

a traditional tire store

Reverse side

of the window painting

a colorful abstract

Truth in advertising

It's not easy

being green

Watch out, Frankie

Somebody coming up

behind you

trying to catch up

Anyone Randy?

Anyone need a rubber?

Some kind of vulcanized

pillsbury dildo boy

Not to worry

he's huffing and puffing,

you're losing him

The road to

All Hallow's Eve

is all yours, baby

you got the key

to the highway

A sweet

20th century hold-over

hope it remains one

So do we

Circling back

through the old Southernmost Side

where I did long reside

They look snobby

and unhappy

Ghosts along Woolsey

as the day dims

Woolsey street

 redwood

Claremont

Time to fire up

the distress signal

We're in big trouble and

we need help

October 2017

Hot Spell Goes into Labor Day

A strange light tints the

sky as clouds move in mitigating

the atmospheric temperatures

the shore on a day without

bright sunshine

Alameda bound

100 years of banking

 A classy joint

no doubt

 Got a big Prince

fancy dress party coming up

So dig out your glad rags

from your psychedelic storage space

This boots are made for walking

 Let's

Familiar crowd

The tide is high

quite high

 The submarine walkway

is really underwater

today

I want to be on the same page

For the first time

I have to quit my attempt

to make it all the way,

If I was nude or wearing a suit

it would have been mine,

my pants are only rolled up so high

and I have to walk backward on tip toes

to avoid getting wet

which I somehow manage to do

Pieces on a chessboard

Hope I'm not letting

anyone down

but I'm throwing in the towel

After my usual marine lunch

at a picnic table,

sweet cold drops of rain

 I sheltered under a thick pine

it was splendid really

after all the heat and glare

Deserted state building
in Summer






What could be more patriotic

than a discarded can of Bud?

 

But they changed the name

to America, a subtle pitch:

US AMERICA

And they added a quote from

Woody Guthrie's

This Land Is Your Land

to their corporate product label

Irony is thick this labor day

Industrial sculpture garden

near crab cove

A crucial workplace

no labor in force

we salute them today

Used to look over at

the soft serve ice cream place

now gone

 The cool low-rent pads of

the twentieth century

are going going gone

The Third Dimension

in situ

Touch me not

Pussy willow

Always thirsty

Got that

silent Brexit

grin on his face

This is a town

that wets its whistle

Ye olde ale hole

in sidewalk

One's last forlorn

99 cents store

Don't take any

 wooden nickels

A flag for every pole

This country has its panties

in a tangle

Secrets in its attic

skeletons in its closet

Some mild sun

toward the end of day

Much was written in the sky


Starting to get dark
earlier

Son it will be time

for Trick-or-Treat

4 September 2017