One Of Those Nights
Tonight was one of those San Francisco classics: clear as crystal on the east side of town, and more misty the more West you go. As I approached my neighborhood, it was hard to see the street through the soup. Glorious.
I sit and stare out at the neighborhood. I am watching the fog spill into my living room through the open window. There is no way to see the ocean, but I hear the waves. I hear the foghorns of ships passing through the pacific...and the homeland dark horn chiming back in salutations and warnings.
Tomorrow means pilates at 8:30. I should crash but I do not want to. I want to watch the fog settle on my street, listen to music all night and breath in the crystal essence of the brisk air I see in front of me.
I new fog horn voice approaches. The night is alive.
I sit and stare out at the neighborhood. I am watching the fog spill into my living room through the open window. There is no way to see the ocean, but I hear the waves. I hear the foghorns of ships passing through the pacific...and the homeland dark horn chiming back in salutations and warnings.
Tomorrow means pilates at 8:30. I should crash but I do not want to. I want to watch the fog settle on my street, listen to music all night and breath in the crystal essence of the brisk air I see in front of me.
I new fog horn voice approaches. The night is alive.
posted by David Katznelson at 2:02 AM
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