Salsa on the San Diego freeway,
Syncopation past the Mormon church
I see dog-like seals flipped out on the beach,
I see crows on a sea-wall perch;
And out in heartbreak country
Where we come to fall in love with life,
The surfers gown themselves in waves
As topless cars glide by.
We’re tourists in this speech-thief land,
where fog-washed mountains vault;
barely credulous in a paradise
where perfection floats over a fault.