let the good times roll
on the eight track
we drive on sandstone sky
baja dirt sparkling with stars
of broken bottles
tecate cans clank
into the surfboards
in the back of the van
Searching for waves
…some oldies station
briefly discernible between
mexican commercials echoing
fuzzy in the background
between distant ranchero music
and crackling static
hot summer tan bodies
dance along to the fat guitars and
beer soaked trumpets
covered with baja dust and
marijuana smoke
…the afternoon sun
bakes our feet caked
with sweat dried mud
we watch the from the cliff
sun dancing hypnotic on the water
crystalline lines rise
above the glassy surface
in rhythm the waves peel pretty
down the long beach
me and mi amigo paddle through
the tequila haze
with hoots into the cliffs that
echo back to the gulls
and dolphins
drunk in their own dreams
distant now in the rear view
as we ride memories
of wind on water