We were standing outside of Sockywonk's, whispering, so as not to wake her neighborhood's dogs and babies.
I already knew the answer (no), but anyway I invited the Maze inside. I wanted his burrito, and never have I meant a thing more literally. He had most of his rejected dinner with him, in a bag. If he didn't want it, I did.
Does my longing speak for itself? Does it have a name, or fish in it, or poetry? It kills me how few people have ever even heard of Richard Brautigan. *
TAQUERIA SAN JOSE
Daily, 8 a.m.11 p.m.
2830 Mission, SF