2am, the Streets of San Francisco are cold and barren, in a sort of open, expansive way.2am, the Streets of San Francisco are cold and barren, in a sort of open, expansive way. I tuck my head deeper in between my coat, imagining the wind bouncing off my collar as I snoop up Kearny street. The hill from the Transamerica to Broadway and Colombus, fills me with hope. The lights from the Beat Museum, the Roaring 20s strip club, the Garden of Eden – flash flash flash. On a little side-street, was where Enrico’s jazz club use to be – now replaced by a swanky new American restaurant, for… Little ripples on the surface. Expanding out from the lake shore .Little ripples on the surface. Expanding out from the lake shore . I feel the blood filling my head, the longer I hold it over my reflection. Funky smirks, a scrunched nose, 2 eyes, and a mountain of uncertainty. Tiny bugs flit around the water, as leaves rustle above me, and fall slowly.
Kicking off my shoes, I feel freedom, at least in my foot. Peel off the dried sock, point my toes, dip it in the cool Tahoe basin.