The Doggy Poncho that Got Away

Overcast, windy and undemanding, Ensenada, Baja California was a kind of Mexico perfect for this time. Off the top of the sombrero, it reminded me of little villages elsewhere where it'd be nice aging in, going out every morning in my smelly braids and saying hi to the folks from whom I'd buy fresh eggs. They may not all come with good men buying guitars and souvenir hats, but there would be enough to make my churros.