barely afternoon black sky arms and legs scent creaking against broad ridden dirt perfectly safe blue had spent a life repairing mangled bones crushed maxillas collapsed cheekbones torn lips hamburger meat bits of cement and asphalt embedded skin rumbling idle of steam age combined weight on one foot accelerated clacked into turns leaned all she [...]

What do we remember about this place?
Those of us who can remember being children here remember the feeling of cold, the smell of eucalyptus, and hunger. Not serious African hunger; hunger from never being home, having no pocket money, no one telling us to eat, no packed lunches.
We would go to the Chinese restaurant and [...]

Among the emails, phone calls, and notes congratulating us after my younger son, Reuben, was born was one from one of my oldest friends from San Francisco, asking if I had named him “after the pizza guy.” Reuben was named after my wife’s grandmother Ruth. But after he was born, and as we began to [...]

It is approximately . . . steps from (1) my bedroom to K’s bedroom. Outside the green door of my green apartment building on Haight Street, the street sleeps. It is Tuesday night. Warm. Whenever I count my steps, I never stare at the ground and my left foot always advances onto odd numbers, my [...]

The guy who sold us acid had lived in the park for six years before he started dealing, and now he had been there for almost forty which he said felt like forever and the place never went back to the way it was during the sixties. He was burrowed into a little hollow behind [...]