Camarillo

 All summer long,

There'd been voices in the air conditioning and

The season had become unpleasantly pregnant

With painful weeks of discontent,

But then the first storms had passed

And left the islands clear and closer

And bathers spotted dolphins in the sea

And all had become quiet in the land of good sun -

A small cabal of shifty boys did the muffled shuffle to

Techno-banda beating in time with a dog's bark

While glass curios and floral pattern vases

Sat anxiously in countless kitchen windows;

And five blocks away a hissing highway

Began to harmonize with the

Long low roar of a fighter jet

Hung-up high in the sunset.

California, Camarillo,

Cam-a-ree-yo, Cal-a-for-ña.