A.D. Winans

I remember how I used
to get into the movies
for twenty-five cents
back when I was twelve
and lived in the Haight Ashbury
long before the Summer of Love
while down on Market Street
they played hi-lo on stage
twice a week and spun the
wheel of fortune calling out the
lucky winner as a busty female usher
ran up the isle yelling:
1, 2, 3, 4 silver dollars
in the balcony
her breasts bouncing with the
dropping of each silver dollar
only fading memories now
like trolly car tokens
like Fleer's double bubble gum
Playland at the Beach
and Sutro's Hot Baths
fragments out of reach
like an aging gypsy woman
reading tea leaves
and finding a death note
in the hands of a sightless conductor
found lifeless three blocks short
of the end of the line
 

Poems © A.D. Winans 2004-2005.
All rights reserved.