Left teaching when the draft died. Would have been fired anyway. Next stop Berkeley, San Francisco and the big waters. New friends. Living in the streets, broke, sleeping in houses of strangers. Finally settling into a job that stuff did not interfere with. It was the scene. Moving from place to place, in and out with my girl friend. Living out of a sleeping bag down near the railroad tracks. Plenty of stuff, concerts, beaches, bedrooms. A big gig here and there. The edge. Closer than I thought. Plenty had already fallen over. Some knew. Most didn’t. Walking down Telegraph Ave, you could see both demons and saints. On my last big gig, something busted open inside me, and I knew I had a choice. They were closing in on me, the shadows in Kabul.
