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.