In this dystopian future, our narrator is privileged enough to own some beach front property amid a "crowded future" and "still find[s] time to exercise" "on my beach at night." The beach itself seems to be the coast of the Valdez oil spill gone mad and global:
Another tanker's hit the rocks
Abandoned to spill out its guts
The sand is laced with sticky glops
Despite the horror, he concludes, "There will always be a moon over Marin."
Jello Biafra -- longing for the Infinite. Who woulda thunk?