It's the kind of San Francisco I love today: misty, sky wearing a gloomy coat of clouds to hide the sun. It's the kind of San Francisco for sleeping in and daydreams of a place big enough to have a fireplace to lie in front of with a lover whose body you want to shower with tiny kisses, whose skin your fingers could travel for days.

I woke up wearing my heart on my sleeve. Looked over at it to see a tumble of infatuation and insecurity and distrust and comfort. I tried to shake the insecurity off, wipe the distrust clean, run to my happiness, knowing it was my destination, but I was only moderately successful. The feelings lingered through a downpour of kisses and morning whispers and a good cup of coffee.

It's quiet here and I'm longing for soft blankets and dark skies. KC and I used to tease that, in these moments, she was a kangaroo and she'd slip me into her pouch 'till I was ready to surface. This morning, that doesn't sound half bad.

July 12, 2001