Monday, March 12, 2007

Road tripping is where I long to be. And so I find myself already missing my beloved SF incense innocence, in a sense. Perhaps I will never see her again. I hope to round the bend from LA sometime in the Fall. But LA is a long way from June, the month of my beginning. And it is not good to dwell upon the future at the expense of the present, someone said sometime.

It is beautiful today, here, looking out my Presidio-view porthole, a polite hoNk? in the distance. Where are the cherry heads, my red-masked friends visiting from Telegraph Hill? Where are the soaring pigeon-doves? Where are the cawking crows? The spit-fire hummingbirds? The little brown, furry cheaps? I will come out to play later. But now I must write, right?