Memories of Ocean Beach

Is it strange that
even though I 
have been to many beaches
in many places,
when I think of beaches
I still go to San Francisco
and the Ocean beach 
at land's end,
where the ruins of the
Sutro Baths
offer a maze of
concrete to balance
upon,
and you can watch the gulls
as they escort large tankers and
naval vessels into
the Bay.

Where sometimes in
the magical thick fog
you can hear the 
gulls cry and the
fog horn,
and if you look inland
towards the City
you can see 
the red eyes of giants
glaring back at you.

The beach stretches through
time and as you
walk the
dunes that often overrun
the parking lots and
streets, you may
find marble tombstones
(names and dates obscured
by the sandblasting winds)
leftover from
the Great Quake and
used to shore up
the dunes to keep
the angry ocean
from swallowing the
houses there; and
seeing movement
in the corner of your
eye, you'll find
a single gull 
shadowing you
in hopes that you 
will spontaneously
and magically
manifest
french fries to share.