Appeared in the poetry journal, Waterways, Summer 2013

In an alley behind a bookstore in North Beach
the ghost of Jack Kerouac
walks
restless
through a pungent veil of incense
whispering whispering
walk to the edge

Spirits haunt these streets
listen closely for their whispers
beneath the clang of cable cars

Behind the gates of Chinatown
mystics stir potions, conjure
wisdom
sage advice
for those who can hear

In the colorless dawn chill
wet mist
puddled on walkways
dries in the rising sun
Spirits slip behind shadows
to sleep