Critter

 Critter liked to watch me tripping.
If I had a tab of Orange Sunshine
or Purple Haze, he said drop it,
go ahead, I’ll hitchhike on your trip.

One midnight at the Art Co-op,

we were painting walls

and I saw the whole spectrum

in the industrial white

with every stroke.

At three a.m. we left

and started walking home.

On the overpass over 101,

we watched a three-car

accident unfold below.

Man! did you see that?

A big old Cadillac

stopped in the center lane

with fire shooting out

from under the hood.

A minute later a Valiant

plowed into the Caddy.

Then a Chevy swerved

to miss the Cadillac and

creamed the Valiant.

No one was hurt, thank God, 

but I think some of them

or all of them were drunk.

We stuck around to tell

the Highway Patrol

what we witnessed.

I was still tripping, I could taste

my words, but they were

basically coherent.

Despite Critter making faces

trying to make me laugh.

A couple weeks later,

he had some psilocybin,

gave me some but he

stayed straight.

We walked up into the hills

in a gentle rain, the moss

on the rocks glowed

softly green.

Critter plucked up a handful,

held it up for me to smell.

Says, what is it? 

Does it remind you

of a girl’s  bush?

One night we visited

some girls who were living

near San Francisco State.

They went to bed but once again,

I was tripping and he was straight.

He opened up the refrigerator,

said let’s watch this like TV.

Put his hand into half a roasted

butternut squash, and mashed it

between his fingers, laughing.

The dawn broke grey and cool.

We stared out the window

as neighborhood faded into light.

Left before the girls woke up.

The residue of my trip

was like metal in my mouth.

I went away later that year

to a missile unit in Germany.

My tripping days ended

on Christmas Eve that year,

when I did some heroin to mellow

out a holiday acid trip.

He wrote to me from Hawaii

that winter, said his girlfriend

and he were going into the

pearl import business

and I should get involved.

That never happened,

but when I finally came home,

I moved into a flat upstairs from them

on Polk Street and began my studies

at the art school.

Critter and Monkey persuaded me

that androgyny is how I should present,

like Lou or Mick or Bowie.

Dyed my hair blue, wore yellow

crushed velour hot pants

and hit the discos.

Until my camera was stolen

on Halloween night at the

Cabaret night club in North Beach.

I moved back home two days later.

Took the color out of my hair.

bought a cheap vintage

press camera, and began

to see streets and deserts

with my own eyes.

I never saw Critter again

after he and Monkey split up,

but I danced with her many times

after my classes at the Art Institute.

She worked in an antique store

at the Cannery.

When a customer left,

she’d say Close the door!

Turn up the radio! 

I loved her, sweet Jessica, -Monkey.

I was never queer enough for Critter.

Or tall enough for her, but we closed

the door of the shop and danced

between the antique tables and vanities.