A Beatle Spoke To Me

I was standing in the express line at the Safeway on Sutter Street.
I had two items in my basket. I had a large bunch of bananas and a
pound package of fig bars. I had calculated that these items were the
most economical in terms of satiation per penny. At that time I had few
pennies but was not concerned about this lack.

Like almost everything in San Francisco, the Safeway was built into the
side of a hill. As I looked out onto the street, I saw, coming from my
left, two small people walking down the hill. The man wore high heel
boots and a Spanish hat. The woman wore a big bushy fur coat in spite
of the fact that it was a warm sunny fall day.

I hurried through my transaction and hustled out onto the sidewalk.
They were a good block and a half ahead of me. I took big strides down
the hill to catch up. My mind was empty. I pursued. At the bottom of
the hill they went left on Van Ness. I was now just a half block
behind. They went right on California and down to Polk where it
flattens out. As they started up Nob Hill, I drew near to them. My mind
was blank. I wanted to speak to them, but I had no idea what to say. I
wondered, if I were him, what would I like someone to say to me?

"We appreciate the interest," I heard his voice in my mind, "but if
it's all the same, we'd as soon be left alone."

I slowed and then I stopped. They walked in peace up the hill. A Beatle
spoke to me.