Fort Irwin California

you and me in my humvee

got pulled over in the desert

got busted down a rank, lost the stripe

got sentenced to a month as a talking water jug

you there uncovered and not covering

you with your legs open to the desert air that mountain there, and

all the rocks the slippery way down

then the range police, hot pursuit, and

you in the driver’s seat

and us pulled over and me head-hung-low that month

at the colonel’s desk and the fuckup and the infantry officer’s tears and fuck, fuck, fuck

and it was no morality play

it wasn’t going to make a good story

just another year in a world of disdain

among a sandy crew of sailors

salt-eating motherfuckers

that ate at wounds open to that self-same desert air

those mountains there

those small rocks up there

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