Mr. Baker So who were you Mr. Baker? A droopy eyed, chain smoking, alcoholic, engineer, best buddy of my father from some era before time. The funny clown, with the frown in your eyes, a phlegmy cackle, who paid attention to the kid hiding under the cushions, making her laugh and leaving her wondering what she was missing. The man from the “City,” the Ed of Yvonne, the people with the slim view of the Golden Gate, the arbiters of taste. Who were you to flit in and out of my life, with a drink in your hand ready to hand out worldly advice. Who were you to say, when the thread between us had died, that I could do better than that. Who the fuck were you to be right?