The Streets Of San Francisco
I walked down to the laboratory, and got ready to time travel. I think I was still in shock, because I didn't fully believe they could do it. When I got there I went through some endurance test. After these tests, I was ready. I put on my special gravity suit, made out of titanium. I needed it so the force of gravity wouldn't liquefy my bones. I got into the pod, and shut the door...10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... Strolling down the streets of San Francisco around 1 a.m., I came upon this small cafe on the corner of Hate and Ash. I walked into the cafe; the sweet aroma of coffee hit me like a brick falling from the sky. I slowly walked towards the counter observing each and every individual, with the ferocity of an eagle soaring through the sky. After ordering my cappuccino, I walked towards the small stage, and took a seat. A young man walked on stage and opened a book, and started reciting poems from it. His poems were amazing, so thought provoking, intelligent, and sincere ("Howl"). Scanning the audience one more time, in hopes I would find a good-looking girl. "I struck the jackpot," I thought. Sitting in the corner was a young woman in her late 20's. She was wearing glasses, and was gorgeous. The you
" Like, what kinds of drugs do you prefer. Do you think it has influenced his writing?" I said. "Now Allen, when did you start having an interest in poetry?" I asked. Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors ng man reading poetry finished. The crowd started to dissipate; soon only the waiters, the poet now talking to the young lady, and myself. I walked up to the man, and introduced myself. I soon found out that the young man's name was Allen Ginsberg. Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, the clock rang 4:00 a.m. Realizing I had to work at 1 p.m. the next day. I told Allen, we would have to finish our conversation some other waters of Lethe? ("A Supermarket in California"). " Read Allen. He read a few more poems, and we applauded. Then he came out into the audience, and took a seat. I walked up next to him, and shook his hand. I told him he did an excellent job. He smiled and said, " thanks!" I then asked him, if we could go somewhere private, so we could talk. We headed for a table in the corner of the Gallery. Once we got over there, I started to ask him some questions. I was mostly interested, in what events in his life had influenced his work. " Tell me about your past," I said. I walked next door to the bookstore, and looked for anything on Allen Ginsberg, finding very little. I looked for someone who looked like they might know anything about Allen, when my eyes came upon the young lady I saw at the cafe. I walked up to her, and introduced myself to her. Her name was Cathy. I chatted with her for awhile, asking her question about Allen. Trying to find out as much as possible. I soon found out that Cathy was a good friend of Ginsberg's, so she could probably answer most of my questions. " An easy one, where was Mr. Ginsberg born?" I inquisitively asked. "So, how do you think all of this has influenced your writing?" I questioned.
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Approximate Word count = 2185
Approximate Pages = 9 (250 words per page double spaced)
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