Waking and not quite knowing where
7 Sept 05, San Francisco
I open my eyes. Brooklyn? Toronto (on the Bloor line, far enough east or west for the buildings to thin out)? No. Oakland. The BART to San Francisco. Some surprise how many seconds it took to remember where I am but it’s been a long travel. Plus, I’m sick and also recovering from a night at a gay dance club, toxins working their way out of my body. I change trains and try to get a seat facing forwards. I read a witty local poet. My shoes need a polish. My book launch is tonight. On arrival to the station, a man plays “Oh Susannah” on a classical Chinese violin.
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