at Lucca’s in the Mission, came home
with fresh-cut Sonoma Jack, aged Swiss,
that delicious creamy goat cheese we
spread on bagels at breakfast.
Let’s go again, both of us,
to San Francisco, buy a loaf
of Boudin’s sourdough rye,
pack a basket of bread and cheese,
fruit, a bottle of red wine,
and head for the park. We can feast
on wet gray fog, our old happiness
breaking through like sunshine.