Sitting down

The day went slow and halting, but it, as days will do, went.

Sitting now in the sunshine, semi-full of rosemary-olive bread soaked in olive oil and a Gibraltar, the leaves of the large oak? overhead filtering a clean, glowing East Bay light.

People -- including a woman in big sunglasses and a purple bandana, Tom's shoes, a yoga mat-showing backpack locking up an old, red 10-speed bike with a cheap-a$@ lock of the same brand that failed to protect my Bianchi fixed-gear (I'm not a hipster!) from some thief who enjoyed slicing the lock and freeing it -- drift by on the sidewalk.

An ambulance passes and the toned-down Miles Davis-like jazz filtering overhead slowly melts the day.