Market Street.
Powell Street.
Intersection.
Just before.
Men.
Homed and homeless.
Clustered around chess tables.
Some real.
Some improvised.
Black.
White.
Yellow.
Mocha.
An ancient practice in a modern city.
Glory eternal yet ephemeral.
Brows furrowed in deep concentration.
Mouths agape in confusion and puzzlement.
Crooked or toothless smiles warm the chilly air.
Noise.
Noise.
Noise.
Checkmate.
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