From looking at brick walls and alleys,
To coasting in a yellow bus out the valley. Grouty, weathering grey streets,
Red rooves reflecting a recent burn,
In stifling quiet with heads in a churn,
To smoking green under palm trees. Blue covers on, off we sailed,
To foam and pebbled rocks we trailed.
Together we pulled one another on,
To burning sand, an ocean glide, salt pond.
Together a crying red moon we saw in front,
To rocks’ sharp seat, a clear, groovy beyond,
We huddled to watch,
