In Between Dreams

A troubador on a street corner. His case is open, small change piling up. The blue, free bus wanders past, half full of people. Walkin' down mainstreet, past the sushi place, past anthropologie, past Jamba juice, where the sidewalks become wood. the music trickles down around us.
Its that kind of sun that's warm on dark hair, but the breeze keeps the sweat from forming. sandals come off, jeans get rolled up. run through the coming tides. It looks like a pac sun ad, only, It's only me, it's only you. lazy clouds streak across the sky.
Dry sand sticks to wet legs, stare at the blueing sky. Check to see the tar balls that've formed on our soles, and then wiggling toes and laughing are the only consequences.
In-n-out, sea foam green hotel. palms. Blue skies- next twelve exits.
Santa Barbara has to be one of the best places on earth.

I'm ready for summer.