𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑜𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑜

[Intro: Reverse string swell. Tape stop. Silence.] [Beat drops. Rhodes enters alone.] December on Columbus, fog is thick and mean. Portofino windows, napkin folded between his rings. [Verse 1: Sparse 808. Space between every hit.] Fleetwood parked diagonal, plates off the machine. Walks North Beach like the rent been his since seventeen. Fish when he says fish, waiter won't meet his eyes. Not a face you'd print, not a name you'd memorize. Dungeness on ice, shells are tracking up the score. No one breathes or touches wine [Pause] until he starts to pour. He broke the bread with just his thumbs, let a crumb fall. Man on his left was talking numbers, window heard it all. Embarcadero fog don't snitch, it just hangs still. Salt air off the pier is heavy, eats you if you spill. He smiled, picked the crab leg clean without a stain upon his shirt. [Tape stop. Vocals only.] Man kept right on laughing, didn't know he was dessert. [Beat restarts.] Twelve forks still, mouths shut, plates are getting cold. Window heard the whole exchange, but the window never told. Host wiped his hands, pushed the bottle, no regret. [Pause] The loudmouth at the table was the first to pay the debt. Same napkin from the dinner, folded tight inside his coat. [Chorus: Full arrangement. Reverse string swells. Wide stereo.] Twelve glasses on the wood, wax and Chianti. Fog rolling through the Bay, half the seats are empty. Sitting pretty at the feast, thinking they were chosen. [Tape stop. Vocals only.] Portofino closed the tab, every debt is frozen. [Verse 2: Heavy 808. Rhodes buried low.] Morning hit the Fillmore, different lock by ten fifteen. Buick circles round the block, daughter says the shop is clean. Seven years on that corner, built it up from scratch. Sheriff's notice on the glass, and the signatures don't match. Lincoln sitting two blocks south, engine barely on. Big block idling through December, warm before it's gone. No body in the trunk, no prints, no paper trail. Just a building on the strip that forgot who paid the bail. Think the handshake means forever? That was never legit. One nod across the table [Pause] and you off the list. Thought you were the architect? Sweetheart, you don't exist. You was furniture [Pause] and now you getting dismissed. Don't need a speech, don't need a witness, one pen on the case. Whole life finished, dinner's done, fog don't leave a trace. Folders go into the safe, locked inside the place. Just another name and number, easy to erase. [Chorus: Full arrangement. Reverse string swells.] Twelve glasses on the wood, wax and Chianti. Fog rolling through the Bay, half the seats are empty. Sitting pretty at the feast, thinking they were chosen. [Tape stop. Vocals only.] Portofino closed the tab, every debt is frozen. [Outro: Rhodes alone. Fading. Tape slows to silence.] July, table's shorter, wax is scraped from off the wood. Eight plates in the cabinet, stacked the way they should. Cracked a shell with just his wrist, sticking to the old routine. Twelve napkins folded up, but four will stay forever clean.