42 Dreams of Arizona Bay

First in a four-part tandem blogging series between 42 Dreams of Arizona Bay and Without A Map.

… Four pieces of chicken. They slice it up. It’s not on the bone. …

… Justice department. I have to write a report on what I do. And read four books. …

… It’s not like KFC. …

… No. The report is due on Monday. I have to read the books this summer. …

… El Pollo Loco (prounounced poorly) It’s not necessarily a huge amount of chicken, but it’s good.

I’m tired. It was a long drive to the outskirts of the city (though I didn’t drive) and then a long ride into the city on public transportation.

For some reason, we always gravitate to an oasis of green in the middle of the city. Washington Square, in the middle of North Beach. A random square filled with people doing the same things.

In the sun. Quiet. Not. Together. Alone. Sleeping while it’s warm. Curled up. Sunglasses. A woman suns herself in a bikini. People smiling at each other. Newpaper shielding eyes while dogs walk around, sniff each other, bark. People just look around. And now, with my eyes closed.

…. German accent: Megan. What’s up? I’m in San Francisco. At the park. I come to the park in an hour. OK. …

Guys get out another bottle from a six-pack of beer. Tiny dog menaces a big dog.

I’m warm. I’m sleepy. I’m happy. I take a nap.

I love it here.

For part two … Things that go buzz in the night