David Fewster

NORTH BEACH IN THE 21ST CENTURY

Sitting in Caffe Trieste

on a Saturday afternoon,

where I never go

because it's always so damn crowded

and as it is I'm crammed between

the ATM machine & the restrooms.

Plus, I have to keep going outside

every 10 minutes to smoke

standing on the sidewalk 25 feet

from the entrance per regulations,

which you never had to do in the day of

Bob Kaufman, Gregory Corso, and Jack Micheline,

because then you could

bloody well smoke anywhere,

even in surgery.

And it occurs to me that

back in 1982 when I lived here,

I could've actually seen

those 3 guys, and maybe even

talked to them, or been insulted by 'em

right before they asked me for 5 bucks.

But I was not a POET then,

and thought North Beach incredibly corny,

and to be frank, by then those guys

were nasty shuddering wet brain alcoholics

(fight me--I've seen the pictures &

read the memoirs.)

Mind you, some folks my age

did seek these geezers out

and chronicled their ravings,

and some of them even parlayed

their obsession into careers, becoming

respected editors and historians of

the San Francisco Renaissance. 

Not me, I just sip my cappuccino grande

and sit ostentatiously writing this poem

(the only person in the joint doing this)

and ruminate on the blown chances

of yet another Golden Age

I lived thru but

didn't appreciate.