This is a picture I did not take
of the constellation Orion rising high in the early spring sky, an arrow's
length from a third of the moon speared above the radio tower, on a night
so warm in San Francisco that it could have been bottled and sold as
bliss, while I rode my bicycle (without a headlamp) up the dark road to
the top of Twin Peaks, passing people streaming-up and streaming-down in
cars, on foot, with children and dogs, because when a night comes as
perfect as this, you have to jump on it before the fog hits and turns all
that's good and clear and unbelievably eye-opening into something milky,
unfocused and merely acceptable.