it's 3:11 am and i am hopelessly reminiscing over the cold mist constantly over the Golden Gate. maybe they're just like the rest of us, trying to cross the bridge off to somewhere else. as all of those who had jumped off. off to somewhere better.
i miss the secret breakfast or dulche de leche exclusively available at humphry slocombe nestled between the hoods of the spanish speaking ΒΏhablas espanol? roll the tips of your tongue like you mean it as you feel the bourbon melt off the tip of it just like any human body would. and i had always secretly hoped that the sandy blond hair and green eyed regular over the counter would scoop me up just like that ice cream out of the tub.
i miss lee and steiner who basically are my ride or die's over the last summer. who swear to love me over my insecurities with theirs. those 2 am giggling and yelling over spiders or a boy's text. 12 pm groggily teeth and hair brushing or blush and mascara applying.
the struggle remains between shorts tights or jeans, a thin cardigan will suffice but you know you're going to regret it as you shiver so hard on the side of the open muni station at 6pm when the sky darkens at the blink of an eye with that hobo next to you bracing it everyday business tomorrow. I AM NOT RISKING IT TOMORROW AND HELL YEAH I'M BRINGING MY PARKA. come tomorrow vanity always wins in the end as you decide nobody will see your #ootd underneath those layers.
pride parade had always been a big thing. as you squeeze through the crowd to the end of the tenderloin you decide that sometimes, penises are just not your thing out in the open. but hey those tutu's and rainbows and ******* plastered with heart shaped stickers were at least worthwhile. you do support LGBT after all. more even when there's a scenery.
not to mention that occupied corner always ready to slip a slice of *** over when you need it fearless of the SFPD. eyeing the whole trade happening. viva la vida. is that stash lasting long enough for you to write the next pop hits?
sipping on the peets you got over at mission you always wondered why is starbucks always so crowded with writers and chatters alike. but constantly in the rush you wished you had the time for that urban outfitters at union square if and only if, you'll just probably end up at the ones over at fillmore. should you give in and just stumble into the mess of the forever 21 instead. ah decisions.
i will never forget that night where we got back from sf and got stranded in the towns of santa rosa. waiting for a ride. journey to remember, always.
do remind me if any of the locations are messed up. memories do fail me.