By J. David Returning from the East Coast recently, I found myself in a holding pattern above San Francisco. Now I feel starved, beaten, insulted and pushed toward insanity. The couple leaning in on each other next to me grumbled, both half-asleep. I know what to do and what to believe. In waves I seek a possible death, in waves I peak, in waves I see.
Cafes do lend themselves to daydreaming sometimes.
The little boy skips away and leaves his chalk. I awoke this morning with fire in my head. I was last night at Zeitgeist drinking with a handful of friends. We were telling sad stories, talking about thriftiness, the future, thievery and this trend of mustaches sweeping the city. We could hear the ocean's pounding roar in that beer garden, drinking pitcher after pitcher.