Electric Claustrophobia

Even though this city rests nestled along the lightness of the bay, where the morning fog typically burns up by high noon allowing the sun to grace us with its shining rays of heat, heralding the dusky pollutants out of the air, while the buildings rise just tall enough to not be too imposing, at the exact height to inspire awe without intimidation, as I shift my glance to the many hilltop roofs, I wonder what extraordinary lives take place in the softly set windows, peering through the coalescing triangles and rectangles of Muni's electric power lines that drops like a pocked canopy over the distant sky, capturing me wholly in its grasp like a spider's finely spun web, O the homely ceiling of the streets, cementing my saunter thickly into the cracked pavement, pushing a hustling tension into my sardine packed veins, as I shoot my eyes around, astounded at how flawlessly these contradictory elements fit together to form such wildly delicate beauty.