Classic Poem

Alcatraz not Minoan ruins.
Morning mist hangs its garden off
Golden Gate bridge. Men in
fog loom large. Fog or ram's horn?
Container ship - warrior barge,
passes under with another load of
Japanese cars to feast upon
freeways. 'Straight guys are at a
premium' you said. (Or so I
overheard). Seven months under
your roof in your bed. I never got
to Texas - never hit Route 66.
Marooned on my Isle, deep within
that lustful, solitary confinement.