My Living Room, Castro Valley

It is my favorite room, 

the biggest living room
I've ever had.

I walk it end to end, 

let my hand slide down the stone hearth, finger

the artful molding, 
pose before the grand windows. 

My father pushes a chair to the windows. 

For a whole day he eyes the hills 
yellow as lions
and the Bay polished as steel, 

and the etched skyline
of San Francisco, 

and left and right the bridges--

silver threads curling across the water--

and through the cloak of fog
a sword of light 
pierces the heart of Treasure Island.

He is dying and he knows it.

But he wants to buy my house.