The ones who stay
San Francisco will not be saved by heroes
Swooping down in cape and skintight suit
Muscles bulging, lifting the doom loop off our injured city
as bystanders cheer
San Francisco will not be saved by heroes
in fancy suits in fancy cars with all the ladies round
all wisecracks and fancy weapons
San Francisco will not be saved by heroes
brooding and dark and reclusive
face masked to hide the pain
The real heroes, my dad used to say, are not the cowboys who ride in twirling their guns and ride out into the sunset
the real heroes are the ones who stay.
The ones who bit by bit piece by piece build something here.
Who lay the pavement stone by stone
Who fix the sewers no one sees
Who show up and drive that bus rain or shine so kids can get to school
Who keep us (each every one of us) safe when darkness comes
Some may swoop down in vibrant boots and giant wigs
but when they slip into phone booths they come out plain,
glasses and the untailored suit
and in their souls all the thousand tedious things that make a city thrive.
