On Spreckels Lake
It’s the less pretty lake in Golden Gate Park
The one where the Russians play chess
Where the old Chinese ladies play Mahjong
All conveniently near my address
The pigeons are crumping and preening
The water unnatural green
Murky and dirty, three feet or thirty
The color of Listerine
The weather’s been rainy and moody
But the clouds have lifted today
Sun working its magic, alighting the granite
On the path where the wild geese hold sway
I walk round the sparkling raceway
Two teenagers poised for a kiss
Their faces earnest and watchful
So close to experiencing bliss
Brown turtles arrayed in a pyramid
Atop the one rock in the pond
Some pushing and tumbling, and surely some grumbling
Unaware of the great world beyond
Two captains embrace on the lakeshore
One’s sail has got caught on one’s flag
They’re discussing which rudder to swivel
Which remote switch can undo the snag
It’s a weekday and just about lunchtime
And time to go home for some cake
But oh what a glorious sojourn
‘Round the pavement of Spreckels Lake
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