Location: San Francisco
We are there. The hole in the wall pizza has quieted.
All the flies have had their fill.
Their diet cokes half nursed.
The streets are busy. People streaming on their way.
On the incline that we call home.
Through all the noise, the music still plays. Words garbled up by chatter.
Except for his words. His voice that will preceede all, “Can I quote you mother fucker?”