On the Road with Maggie Scratch in the Seventies in San Francisco at Sunset

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“I can’t remember what year it was, but I was still married to P.P. Goldfeather. I was separated from him and on this particular day, hanging out with a poet in San Francisco. The poet and I hadn’t made love yet but we would that night, after we French-kissed on the dance floor of Hamburger Mary’s. Claudia was in San Francisco then. We had spent the day listening to the poet and his friends read their poetry in someone’s basement. In the evening the three of us went for a walk. In San Francisco, more than any other place I’ve ever lived, twilight is the most beautiful time of day. You have to go outside on the city streets just as it’s turning from sunset to dusk, before it gets dark. A pinkness flushes the entire city. The pinkness settles like fairy dust into a myriad of rosy grays which fade, as gradually the streetlights and the lights in people’s houses dot the view with tiny ochre squares. It was precisely between sunset and dusk that the poet and I, accompanied by Claudia, were having our before-dinner-and-sex stroll. We hadn’t touched each other yet, we were talking, or rather, he was talking and I was listening. He was defining revolution and poetry and discussing whether or not someone could become a revolutionary poet, just when the pinkness began.”

Maggie Scratch

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4 thoughts on “On the Road with Maggie Scratch in the Seventies in San Francisco at Sunset

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