Eirawen
If you are going to San Francisco…
It can’t have been me who rescued a somewhat beaten up Chinese dragon from the dumpster outside Sunset Rec Center, I wouldn’t do something so stupid, but he’s sitting in my basement waiting for Lunar New Year to come around again.
This time of year the ice flowers would start to flower along that strip of sand that split the lanes of the Great Highway. They were like a fluorescent marker tape that showed exactly where the city ended.
Remember John’s Ocean Beach Cafe? It was really more of a diner: scratched formica tables, leatherette booths, pictures of Elvis, John Wayne, Rudy Valentino and James Dean. They had the loveliest waitresses and the most delicious, garlicky, fried potatoes.
The house was always scratchy with sand, no matter how much we swept. I seemed to have sand in my hair at the end of every day, ice flowers could have taken root. Scott Mackenzie never mentions that.
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