Bay
Are you a pusher or are you a puller? Bouncing around (t)here back to the Bay with the San Francisco lights burning across, lingering in the backdrop while buried in the hills of Berkeley. I pull the weight towards me. Dead weeds, sucked dry as we pass by without eyes. I drink another espresso and peddle forward. And I lack the zest of a lemon, looking forward. Stretching into my core, I release. With the songs in my head, seeking for what's next. Unless I have a woman pushing me.