Henry was skeptical. But Luke said it wouldn’t be a problem “We can go to the park,” he said shortly after arriving. “Where’s Haight?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said. He pulled out his computer to look it up.

They got off BART and found Haight and made their way to the park. It was a long walk uphill. At first the houses were plain, some were falling down. Gradually the street became more colorful. Large murals splashed on the sides of buildings. It seemed like every window was filled with tie-dye and pictures of Jerry Garcia. Groups of kids with dirty hair and eager dogs hung out on the sidewalks. Some played guitars and beat drums and sang. Some sat around talking loudly. Others sat around and stared at each other nervously.

At the top of the hill, Henry and Luke ducked into a sunny cafe. They ate chicken and salad and drank beer. Henry had moved to the city a month earlier and Luke had flown out to visit him. Luke had been to San Francisco many times and loved it. Henry wasn’t sure yet. They talked about friends back in Iowa. Luke said he wished he could move to San Francisco. Henry said he thought it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and Luke just looked at him over the sticky table.

Outside the sun was going down. Haight was bathed in flashing lights. The air was clean and fresh and cold. Henry and Luke put on sweatshirts and started downhill towards the park. “It’s not too much further,” Luke said. “Just at the bottom of this hill.”

A group of Evangelicals had set up at the park entrance. A man played an acoustic guitar and sang into a microphone. Luke and Henry walked past a bearded man handing out fliers proclaiming the saving powers of Jesus Christ. They weren’t interested in this metaphysical kind of redemption. They were looking for something more immediate, something a bit more earthy.

“Nugs, nugs,” the boy said under his breath. He wore tight black jeans and a large black hoodie and had black hair. “Nugs, nugs, you looking for some nugs?”

“Yeah,” Luke said and the boy swung around.

“Follow me,” he said.

Henry and Luke followed the boy down the path and through a forest into a clearing and back onto another path. Two of the boy’s friends had joined them and Henry noticed someone following on a bicycle, a shiny pair of handcuffs dangled from his pink belt. “Luke,” Henry said. “Hey, Luke.” Either Luke didn’t hear him or was ignoring him, because he didn’t turn around. Henry didn’t want to be there anymore. He wanted to be back in his apartment drinking a bottle of wine and reading a book.

“Let’s go to McDonald’s,” the boy said and Henry realized the deal was done.

Henry and Luke sat down under a clump of Redwoods and smoked from the twelve dollar pipe Henry had bought earlier that afternoon. A full-moon was rising over the city, its pale light floated through the trees. Everything was very quiet. They passed the pipe back and forth like communion and held their breath.

Luke was glad to be in San Francisco.

Henry was glad to be in San Francisco.

They stood up and headed back into the city. Under the arch, next to the McDonald’s, a skinny girl was crying into the microphone. She was recounting the moment she was saved. Her thin hair was clumped together and her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. A small crowd was gathered around her and would shout Amen sporadically. The bearded man was still there with his fliers. He held one out to Henry. It was baby-blue with bold black letters and a looming cross. Henry smiled and took it.