i've always been most fond of the number 9
which is one of the reasons i didn't fly straight home from Arizona
December 9 would have been eaten by the international date line
a shocking waste of a good day
so here i am in San Francisco instead. it's been my favourite city forever
[until New Orleans welcomed me with open arms last month]
now i have two favourite cities
[and a host of favourite wild places]
but i'm straying from the story.
i'm in San Francisco, in the slightly grotty Buena Vista Motor Inn.
the walls and floors vibrate and working girls go up and down the elevator
[and probably on a few other things too]
from my position on the sofa in my room
i can just see the red lights on the top of the Golden Gate Bridge
earlier this evening i called past an old friend
a Jasminum polyanthemum that lives near the top of Greenwich Street
whose fragrance both real and remembered has been a delight to me for over thirty years.
my most recent tattoo was [literally] drawn from my memory of this particular plant
some kind person has adorned it with twinkle lights
making the visit especially sweet