by tobias crabtree
the sun above san francisco is patient. he must wait and watch for any opportunity to find his favorite places. he waits for a chance to trickle down through the cyprus boughs in golden gate park. he waits to touch the kale growing in the community gardens near land’s end. he waits to warm the people waiting for an egg sandwich at outer lands. he waits to come through the window of the apartment where i sit and warm my shoulder up. he’s patient, that ol’ sun.
the saw grass waves on the dunes across the street and beyond that the ocean pushes and pulls at the outer edges of america. in a few minutes i’ll pull the out the to-go cup from yesterday and uncrumple it and watch the folks at trouble coffee fill it up with a beautiful breve…a tiny one please, so i can maybe have two. huge lilies are by the pond behind the sign that tells us not to release turtles. my dear friend, Eamon, waits for dirt from higher up the hill. he will tell the fellas where to dump it and then he will pack it for the hikers and the bikers and the deer and the skunks. he will make it perfect because he’s good like that. i will walk to Tuesday Tattoo and see my old friends. somewhere, somehow, i’ll probably get my grubby mitts on a chocolate croissant and it will last for a minute or two.
sarah showed me a pair of old shoes that she has that she loves. i did an old repair job on them and they look good, just a bit older and more worn…like me. they are brown leather and have a broken lace (she says she’ll just cut the other lace and splice it) and they have a look of something that isn’t really made anymore. i love faithful objects. good old shoes. favorite spots. the sun. the sea. clunking hearts. i struggle with guilt when i think of the things that i take for granted. on days like today i struggle less. the list is long for someone like me; someone who stands so comfortably under the san francisco sun. the memories of yosemite valley are only two days old, they are mixing with the coffee and the ocean here in the city. there are some wonders that are simply too big to cover with words.
sarah said she had them old shoes re-soled. she does that so they’ll last. it’s good for me to come here every now and again. you could say i get re-souled kinda like those shoes. it helps me last.
and since i was trying to be all cute with words, here are some definitions…not that you need them, but, you know, i’m just trying to help…or whatev’s. it’s kinda like trying to explain a joke and then it’s not funny anymore. oh well, what the hell.
soul — noun — 1. the spiritual or immaterial part of a human being or animal, regarded as immortal.• a person’s moral or emotional nature or sense of identity: in the depths of her soul, she knew he would betray her.• emotional or intellectual energy or intensity, esp. as revealed in a work of art or an artistic performance: their interpretation lacked soul.
sole — noun — the undersurface of a person’s foot: the soles of their feet were nearly black with dirt.• the section forming the underside of a piece of footwear.
last–noun–a shoemaker’s model for shaping or repairing a shoe or boot.
last — verb [ no obj. ] 2. continue to function well or to be in good condition for a considerable or specified length of time: the car is built to last | a lip pencil lasts longer than lipstick.