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The Eye

   
 
 

June 6, 2003

 
  Tick … tock … tick … tock.

A large round locket swings back & forth. Back & forth. Back & forth before The Eye. It’s made of gold. Or is it cast iron?

Oro en paz, en guerro fierro. Oro … fierro. Oro … fierro.

The Eye is getting sleepy.

The Eye has seen many things. Golden moments, lifting citizens higher than the heights of Twin Peaks -- a nearly successful write-in campaign for mayor, a wildly successful slate of supes selected by district. Gray moments, not darkened by the iron weapons of war, but deadened by the dullness of lead-lined coffers -- former industrial neighborhoods laid waste in the interest of dot.com development, former dot.com developments lying fallow for lack of financial foresight.

So sleepy.

The Eye sees a giant rainbow flag, streaming across a broad intersection, in a week when three thousand miles away to the east, the U.S. attorney general forbade his department to hold a gay pride event. The Eye sees a pot-filled pipe, smoked without fear of city interference, in a week when three thousand miles away to the east, the U.S. attorney general intensified his march against marijuana. The Eye sees three candidates for district attorney unite in opposition to the death penalty, in a week when three thousand miles away to the east, the U.S. attorney general proposed capital punishment for certain terrorists.

Oro en paz.

So very sleepy.

En guerro fierro. The Eye sees war among progressives, as Democrats attempt to squelch Greens. The Eye sees war against homeless people, as a mayoral wannabe seeks to sever their safety net. The Eye sees war against protesters -- those who fill the streets and those who live in mobile homes -- as police officers overstep their authority.

The Eye has seen too much. Now, drooping, heavy with sleep, The Eye sees no more. All is quiet.

How long will The Eye sleep? No one knows.

Perhaps one day Person Charming will arrive, bearing restorative kisses. Or perhaps centuries from now The Eye will continue to slumber, all alone in a silent clearing surrounded by the noisy forest of San Francisco politics.

Eye@sfcall.com