The sun was reborn in Ocean Beach yesterday.
Downtown, an Indian man crossed my path. He carried a tattered umbrella: a mesh of torn, red plastic clinging to mangled, metallic arms (like the limbs of a squashed spider). I wondered how he was hoping to keep out any rays of sunlight. Or, perhaps, he was just being selective about what rays to let in.
My favorite downtown coffee-shop is gone now. Perhaps we'll have another church of Starbucks or another fast-food shrine or another such block of holy redundancy to dull us all into eternal submission. Perhaps.
Downtown, an Indian man crossed my path. He carried a tattered umbrella: a mesh of torn, red plastic clinging to mangled, metallic arms (like the limbs of a squashed spider). I wondered how he was hoping to keep out any rays of sunlight. Or, perhaps, he was just being selective about what rays to let in.
My favorite downtown coffee-shop is gone now. Perhaps we'll have another church of Starbucks or another fast-food shrine or another such block of holy redundancy to dull us all into eternal submission. Perhaps.
frost: