by Jon Moore 8am
Ooh ooh
Arctic chill
Slipped in from
Around the hill
Little Mesa
Tall, be bold
Shades Wharf Road
Harbors cold
Ocean breeze
Really sings
Across one’s face
Really stings
Sun’s arose
Not a flower
Blinding bright
O’er Sutro tower
Currents rush
Sea foams fly
Sitting gull
Gives me the eye
-Right here today on the Bo Bay
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