Outside Kiva Han, Craig Street, Oakland.
A Guy approaches a female friend sitting at a table outside and talks with her. After a while, he pulls out his cell phone:

Guy: I’m going to take your picture.
Girl: Why?
Guy: Because you look like Edna St. Vincent Millay.

 
We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such you are, — but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,
That flourish through neglect, and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Our steady senses; how such matters go
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meagre passion here;
With lovers such as we forevermore

Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the Table’s ruin through her door,
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the coloured book upon the floor.
— Edna St Vincent Millay