Walking in Mendocino

Walking in Mendocino
I see my fellow Fair Folk
the travelers, the campers
woven among tourists
but who are not of them,
eating ice cream
drinking lattes
wine-tasting and
window shopping for
moondust and trilobites

In the ocean air we hear
witchy drums calling near yet
far, now a year away
We pause in the street
for a final sly wink
and a wave, then
slam inside our cars
and drive home