HOIST THAT RAG, BOYS!

I dropped in on Diego in a kerosene dream. We went watching the sunbeams highlight the passer-byes. The pacific is fine for an afternoon swim. Best waves I've seen since Johnny Typhoon tried to drown me in that old rusty pond behind the casino. No buildings here are stacked by layered bricks. It's never cold like penitentiary blizzards beneath those bending branches on that dark cracked summer road. Stone blind love, boys. The tomatoes aren't nearly as big and juicy like the ones Willy and I ate from Bluelite's hidden garden planted 100 yards down the back lawn - all summer long. Anyways, I always hated that fake shit, Nayonaise, he put on his big red beauties. Could just as well have used tapioca pudding from an elderly housing project.