Thirty-three years to celebrate,
we cruise up the coast
passing lush green hills of January,
gripping the wheel from wind’s thrust.
The plaza pulls us in with its charm,
shops shimmer in their zeal for patrons,
the sun blazes, temperature warm,
windows entice with appealing apparel.
“You look like I need a drink of wine,”
words on a hand towel with pizzazz.
“With every glass of wine comes wisdom,”
a neighboring towel claims to add.
Shelves stocked with crafts, so cheery,
persuading to purchase without effort.
This store carries us to Rose Apothecary.
Where are David and Patrick?
Arches and patios show off twinkle lights
for when the moon shines her splendor.
We feast on pulled pork and slaw,
Chardonnay and Pliny the Elder.
Laughter’s in the air, picnics on blankets,
a man strums and sings like Paul Simon.
A man with a backpack eyes the banquets,
a dog licks…
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