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I sat up...

"Jeez, how long have I been out", I thought as I began to pry my eyes open; the room was still dimly lit except for the electric Buddha glowing from above me. I crawled over to turn on the Television; the channel was randomly set but it too was preoccupied with the state of the world: Damn that car is on fire on the Bay Bridge, I yelled as the television helicopter circled the flaming debris scattered along the bridge. It was possible to see from the "shot" a scattering of people whom had been there live.
"Oh, shit..oh, shit what is happening" I said as I began to think of the dire circumstances the city has now come under. And what about my friends?

I sat there for 15-20 minutes, transfixed at the chaos in the world at that time. The entire world as I knew it was a "war" and I had t go back out and see if I was needed, after the part I had played. I sat there and began to put on my shoes and then took a piss. and worriedly set out again at about 5 of 1 am. I spent the next 75 minutes circling the area around the bridge; so many cops keeping people away from the vital areas to the ruling class: shopping, infrastructure(bridges, main roads) and also food(which was extremely prominent 15 months later during the mayday/Rodney King riots). I did not try to press any advantage, to get a closer view, based on my personal apprehension due to the earlier encounters. I did not want to be held by the pigs, especially under these conditions. I did widen my arc in returning to Leavenworth and Geary by heading up market towards Duboce Park specifically Walter St. and 14Th(I have an attachment to that number ) though careful to avoid the main drag.

I stopped by my first home in the city and discovered no sign of life. I felt it was time to return to Apartment 100 and see if my peeps had returned...
As I walked the dark and nearly deserted streets that early morning, I thought back to how it all started: a large gathering of masses with me standing at the feet of Angela Davis whose rousing speech combined with her god like persona-those dreads- propelled the youthful crowd into the night and the battles with the forces of "imperialism." "What a night...what a night", I thought as I crossed Van Ness Ave., and headed down Geary towards Leavenworth. Like so many times before the street were still busy with the traffic of human flesh: the boys of Polk then the trans of Hyde and lastly my corner and the girls with no names. A friendly face was leaving the building as I approached, happily not having to find a key to get inside; I march to the door besides the elevator and jump anxiously down the flight of stairs and as I walk the distance to the door and thankfully I can hear that life had made its return while I had been gone.

I open the door and was glad to see so many familiar faces...