Topanga Canyon, May 10, 2005

It snakes and twists
In its own natural rhythm
Antithetic to speed

It starts low
Then goes high
And meets the sea

It is my guilty pleasure
on days I don’t mind
Being late

Not as spectacular
as Malibu Canyon
but it shines with its own
Enchanting Beauty

Home to Froggy’s and Viggo,
a Santa Fe boxcar,
Hidden Treasures,
and the last remaining hippies

Radio waves cannot pierce
the thick canyon walls,
leaving the singing
To the birds

The wet winter
Has turned the red rocks
Wooly
With a hundred shades of green

Spots of purple and yellow
A little orange
Ending in the endless blue
of the Pacific.

It leaves you with
A Choice:

South to the center of capitalism, a return to “mankind”

or

North to the beautiful coves of Ventura, calling the free spirit.