my guitar teacher

Back when I was in love with San Francisco, I took classical guitar lessons from a very cool teacher that lived near twin peaks. This was back when everything was significant and coincidental for me. My teacher had an advanced degree in theology and we spent half of every lesson talking about life and death. In the middle of one lesson he took a phone call, which was a very unusual thing for him to do. He came back into the room teary eyed and told me that a friend of his had just died. Rather than send me home, he insisted on continuing the lesson. I wish I could remember what we talked about. I do remember that he blurted out at one point "Maybe I'm not the teacher for you, here I spend most of the lesson talking" to which I replied, "You are definitely the teacher for me." Driving home from the lesson I saw San Francisco from above and its jewel-like glittery lights all layed out below in this fantastic city scape. I literally always had to take a deep breath as I descended from twin peaks and made my way to my room in the drafty victorian.