A Certain Savior Faire

Already it's hard to tell

where the scars stop or start, 

on these boots.
Where they are most worn.

The first cuts began 

in the hills of San Francisco,

along the tracks of the trolley cars

and the fog shrouded piers

bustling with seals and tourists.

Down thru the Bowery bars

and the still, SoHo evenings 

just after the towers.

Flying thru the Krog St. Tunnel

and on into Oakland Cemetery,

up the Avenue of Giants,

and finally slipping in the rain

on Rue de Louce.

And the soles that began

in love, finally fall for it again

as I retrace these many routes

these broken boots have carried me.