Dropping it for the first time lysergic acid diethylamide there on Pescadero's beach with night hunkered down in the dunes
We howled at the waves of the wild Pacific stamped our feet on the dense moist sand and miracles radiated outward from each footfall
uncounted stars galaxies somewhere deep in that gritty sky the sand alive with phosphorescent life
Oh and we laughed swore oaths to each other spied the turbid moon as if for the first time her hair in a mess of wind-torn cloud
It was perfection by the sea until some wise old hippies alerted us to our danger: "The heat's in the parking lot, man."
Panic. Crawling like drug-addled moon dogs on our bellies through the dunes to find a near-empty parking lot. No heat. No hippies. Only the wan moonlight vacant pavement.
And so in our glorious excess to a sandstone cave where a box of whispers was found and poetry invented.