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American Summer
Poems written while traveling.
Salinas
From Highway 1 in Monterey 68 splits eastward and moves inland, twisting between the rolling hills, past Laguna Seca raceway, the live oaks, livestock, and a new subdivision of uniform, suburban houses. It rounds the north end of the Sierra de Salinas and spills into the farmland the grows to the edge of town. Lettuce, cabbage, and tomatoes appear like rodents on the highway, spilled from produce trucks that keep to the fields and to the railroad yard. There is a small Sears, an old one on 68 as it heads uptown. There is an F.W. Woolworth's next door still selling paper doilies. Inside, at the two-tone paint line, cardboard advertisements for French dips, strawberry sundaes and banana splits, celebrate the eye-level of the fountain and grill. A half a mile downtown passed the high school and the ice cream stand, just around the corner from the depot on a one-way street facing the armory, the races mix at Rosita's Armory Cafe. back | ToC | next
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