D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

I went to San Francisco again, but caught a later train than I should have. As the tram crept through traffic heading out to the far end of the Sunset, the light started to fade and the fog was creeping over the park a few blocks to the north. At the end of the line at Ocean Beach, the sand had drifted over the sidewalk and onto the crosswalk, and was cold and pocked as I quickly shed my shoes, tied their laces together, and stumbled through the gap in the dunes after a late surfer. It was misty-dark on the beach but I could see a tent pitched down near the water so I turned away from that and blóted as night fell; when I came back up, the cafe had closed and the waiting streetcar glowed in the dark street.