Café El GrecoThe spire, cross atop, of one of the steeples of Sts. Peter and Paul rises against a band of gray fog—blue sky above—over the top of the North Beach buildings. Isn’t that as it should be— above the traffic, above the grubbing. My friend Carlo likes this quote: ‘A choirmaster,’ says Diogenes, ‘pitches the note higher than he knows the choristers can manage—so do I.’ The café window and the green of a tree near the curb frames the spire. These things have real significance but when we try to express them we can’t find the words. For there are simple moments which are also sublime. An espresso cup sits empty on a sidewalk table.