San Francisco

Today I walked up California Street and past the Mark Hopkins, and out in front stood a beautiful woman in a gray suit and a dark man wearing a turban. They were smoking cigarettes and talking in the shade. I noticed the woman’s legs. The man’s turban was blue.

Across the street from the Bank of America stood a shirtless man holding a cup and asking for change. His left foot was black with gangrene. Only his right foot was shod. I put several dollars into his cup.

Pigeons searched blindly for food, stabbing at the concrete. A woman was hollering at no one.

Always when we pass this, my wife tells me to look the other way. She tells me she’ll keep my money for me.

People on couch
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