At Il Fornaio, San Francisco Poem by Kirby Wright

Inside Il Fornaio, a sparrow joins me
At the marble table. Sour chirp. Wants
My pumpkin muffin, a sip of espresso, then

To be let out. Overhead heaters crackle,
Brand name, Sunpak. Behind glass, soggy
Plaza. Drizzle. Umbrellas sprout—black

Mushrooms at the corners. First day of
Spring. Two women guide a dolly stacked
With cardboard boxes: one pushes, the other

Balances. Sign says, No Parking 2 a.m. to
6 a.m. Street Cleaning. Wet cars chase one
Another south on Battery. I drop a crumb of

Muffin. A man with cigarette frowns by,
Walking face, facing fading needs.
What we come to expect becomes limited.

Fear triggers the minimal. Dreams diffuse,
Transfuse the violet sky. Do you own an
Umbrella? Carry the morning paper?

Let a briefcase swing at your knees? The
Plaza fountain spurts across fabricated
Rock. Recycling water show. Tortured river.

This fountain secretly feeds the heavens?
Most gather at crosswalks, waiting for traffic
To stop. Want permission to walk, to disappear

Into red-bricked offices. The sparrow chirps,
Begging for pumpkin, but the muffin’s gone.
The bird flies off. Evaporation’s endless.