south park. this is where i work in san francisco. a little park south of market, in between a freeway and warehouse lofts. it's a piece of green in an industrial zone. i often wondered how it got here. i heard that in the 80s, south park was where the garment factories were. a hundred years ago, it was supposed to have been a rich real estate until the wealthy moved north to the hills near pacific heights. when they left, the park was abandoned. during the dot-com boom, internet starts ups worked here. when it busted, they moved out. now it's full of architects.
at center, to the left of the playground, all the way down there is a yellow coffee shop - butler and the chef - that makes a vanilla latte that i'm addicted to. i work across the park, in one of those buildings to the right in the distance. ground floor, all the way in the back. there's a guy who walks a dozen big dogs every afternoon while carrying a baby. i smile when i see him. there's also a garage full of old treasures - a sports car (the kind that james dead drove), fake palm trees, old movie cameras, regal furniture - that is strictly not for sale. i grab my bagels by the green building to the right. at night, it's all dark and foggy, and the street lamps look like hazy lazy angels, a bit too tired to get off the ground.
