San Francisco

Things were pretty, things were gritty.

There were perfect hues on Victorian homes and smells of bread and opportunity.

Mission Dolores park was spilling over with people. It felt like the whole world was laying in the grass, soaking in the sunshine. A sort of silent roar made its way across the sea of friends. Almost as if we were all anticipating an unplanned concert. Like we were waiting for the day to knock our socks off.

We sipped coffee and ate sandwiches. San Francisco sandwiches. We perused book stores and record stores. San Francisco stores.

We smelled the San Francisco air and walked the San Francisco streets. We listened to the San Francisco sounds.

At one point, we heard a man say, “No dude, you were so smiles.”

I liked that. I am choosing to interpret that as

“Ya looked good, man.”

That’s how I felt about San Francisco. It was so smiles.