i love you san diego
girls of platinum with a drippy tickle squeak to their tones
land of palm trees whose dead fronds dangle, reminding of time
big, tan malls, self replicating and infinite and huge with pricey coffee besides
land of lazy drivers, or friendly ones, when you are where you want, no need to go fast
hills too steep for feet, but wheels make them sing, enough for a chorus
land of the rust free automobile, dripping with chrome, colorful class, burning rubber on flat asphalt
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