San Francisco
I came back without really knowing how I got there. I wanted to see that blood red bridge and the cable car gripman dropping the rope on Powell. I wanted to see if the little bar was still open where I chain-smoked my way through half a bottle of Bourbon. It was a Wednesday and it was raining. I still had teeth marks in my neck.
Funny how actually touching something can dispel its magic. The moment I arrived I knew I didn't want to be there. The sight of the bay doesn't move me. The old streets sicken me. So much for home.
Funny how actually touching something can dispel its magic. The moment I arrived I knew I didn't want to be there. The sight of the bay doesn't move me. The old streets sicken me. So much for home.