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Sometimes I think of you when the air is cool Thick fog, sea of blue. Headlights push through Speed through main streets and packed into tight seats San Diego seaside-Ocean Beach Do you ever think of me, California breeze? San Francisco's Mission Street with cups of coffee You kissed me on the cheek and I cried all night just to see you Hands in pockets; hands in pockets We kissed in a photo booth, black and white proof Stood close in the Empty Bottle's front room You left in the middle of the night with sad eyes Not enough time: different lives Sometimes I think of you wandering through Courtyards, dead cars. Who are you talking to? Could you see me flying across the sea? Would you forgive me for acting so recklessly? Hands in pockets Hands in pockets Hands in pockets Hands in pockets
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