I wondered through the haze of smoke in my favorite bar. You are not supposed to smoke in California, but this bar is owned by an Irish woman of great beauty and valor. I can't wear any nice clothes here. I really don't mind that much though. The beauties behind the bar are just some of the greatest people on the planet. Forgeting the drudgery of life in a dank pool hall. I was in th middle of dream. Hiking across the southern most point of USA toward the green sand beach. It was sunny and warm. the view was excellent. A smile on my face. Nothing but rolling green grass and blue ocean. A strong comforting breeze pelted my face. The sharp crack of the cue ball brought me back. It was my turn again. Ah' blissfull memories of Hawii on beautiful day in San Francsico. Spending it in a dark bark might seem wrong but I had already done my exercise for the day. Now I needed muscle relaxents to stave off thinking. The world news has not been especially kind. Well it's been more than a little embarassing. The Giants were once again blowing a Bonds homer. The less said about the chicken in chief the better. Blondes in tight pink dress walking past and smiling from the rear.
The juke box rocking some Temple of the Dog. I moved throught the regulars trying to understand the peculiar dialect of english being spoken. There was Jordi on one end and a full stuff shirt British accent over there. The strains of cockney reached from the other end of the bar. When a beautiful Irish accent called out. " There's the man. What do you want? a magarita? "
"You bet." I said. As the most beautiful girl in the world made me a magarita. Outside the world passes by. The downtrodden and mirthful. The sad and the conceited. It's one big crazy world. Only 49 square miles and I would not trade it for the rest of the country. It's good to be alive .
