Today's fog seems like a soul
caught in a purgatory,shunned by earth, air, fire,
and water but also of all four.
It rises up out of earth,
tumbles from air, fills itself
with water, and imitates smoke.
Today it rides down from hills
in San Diego, cools the brown
young women in scant bikinis
and the young men trying
to impress them. It blocks
the dropping dun. It wants
to befriend the moon's waves,
which ignore it and pound
the beach. Right before dusk,
the fog lifts, leaves like a hobo
hopping a train to Mexico.
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