While hanging in the upstairs poetry room at City Lights yesterday (I was looking for a poem by Gabriella Mistral called "We Were All To Be Queens") I was distracted for a moment by some motion outside the window. I looked over, and as usual, the neighbors across Kerouac Alley had hung their laundry out to dry. The clean clothing provided a stunning back drop for those of us reading in that room who maybe didn't want to look at Alan Ginsberg, naked. This time, instead of the tighty-whities (see my posts related to the opening festivities of the S.F. International Poetry Festival in July-there's a picture), there was a red sweater, hanging on a pole, which seemed to be inhabited by an invisible wearer who was practicing for Dancing With The Stars because that sweater twirled, bobbed and weaved all on its own. Of course, just as I got out my camera (which does have a video feature) it stopped moving but I was able to get this shot:
I think that neighbor must enjoy airing his clean linen for all of City Lights' customers.