Up close, the beach was disgusting and tragic. A million tiny pieces of plastic were heaped on the shore like confetti from a hundred parades, or like the real sand on the beach threw up.
Used to see lots of psychedelic princes and princesses on Haight Street. Not many these days. But here were hundreds of the turned on and tuned in, dressed like birds and peacocks in heat.
"Are you a masochist?" It's the first thing Bosco asks me. He's fourteen years old now, almost my height, 5' 8", creamy white skin, and a small, German nose from my stepmother's side of the family.