Zaca

Jangling down that beach road
in the old Baja beater

no windows    no doors
all gauges broken or missing

A part of the sky & mountains

Spontaneous laughter
Rolls out of my throat

Giddy
At my vastly improbable fortune

dreamy

    We reserve the word 'dreamy' to apply to that soft wind that arrives in the tropical heat of the Baja night, that runs across the Southern Ocean under a thousand Mexican stars & makes a little sleep possible on the flat thatch roof