PRETTY WOMAN
New Year’s Eve, ’67 is party time in The City
Some straight folks from the Avenues
and some not so straight from the Haight
mix and mingle downtown in an industrial space
located off an alley south of Market
The room is filled with balloons, bubbles
light shows, music and dance
There are two bowls of punch
one laced with acid, one without
We party for awhile then decide
to go home for a more intimate soiree
We exit into the alley on this cold night
to find a pretty woman, thirty something
in basic little black dress and high heels
clutching a purse, but not a jacket
hanging onto the side of a parked car
high as a kite, lost and scared
Either by accident, or on purpose
she is on her first acid trip
We can’t just leave her there
so we take her to our home in the Haight
She wanders about our railroad flat
which still retains its original
Edwardian interior of dark wooden walls
combination electric/gas light fixtures
fancy fireplaces, antique furniture and
the usual counter-culture accoutrements
She watches as shadows
cast from fireplace and chandeliers
dance up and down the walls
listens to psychedelic music
but doesn’t say a word
Even though I, too, am too high
I watch and worry about her
Who is she? Where does she live?
How can we help her?
About dawn she departs
She says, “Thanks, I’ll be fine
I can find my way home”
She opens the door
walks out into the freezing
foggy New Year’s morning
and disappears