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 the 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.