Back in 2002 when I used to spend most of my weekends in San Francisco, one of my pastimes was going for coffee and brunch. Once I read a short poem by SF’s own on a postcard in one of my favorite brunch places on Union St, Rose’s Cafe.
I had lost it till the other day when I went there for breakfast after years. I picked up a copy of the postcard. It was the first day of 2007. It was a beautiful, sunny and pleasantly warm winter day in one of the best cities in the world. I felt happy. Life was good. Here is the poem.
Recipe for happiness in Khabarovsk or any place
One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with strong black
coffee in very small cups
One not necessarily very beautiful
man or woman who loves you
One fine day