This is actually better than Lyon’s restaurant on John Daly Boulevard where the coffee gives me indigestion and the waitresses keep me awake. There’s no mistaking a friend’s marble steps or the warmth of San Francisco’s afternoon sun for any other. Jerry’s Market on the corner beseeches me. All the passing cars beseech me looking for a place to park. Strange figures behind the apartment windows across the street beseech me too. What am I going to do? The famous Stanyon Street. The famous fire hydrant. The famous telephone pole. The skyline, the streetcar. The famous crack in the sidewalk with the famous dead grass in it. Not to mention the famous gutter. There’s a line for everything.
5 August 1975