Calvo mostly in Cali

Santa Monica

you and me in my humvee

got pulled over in the desert

i got busted down that rank, lost the stripe

got sentenced to a month as a talking water jug

we took the highway out of the rear-view mirror

down the ten, the cajon, the dirty valley, the backboned boulders

us tricky-parking in the city of angels

we got us a hostelry

santa monica next to a gun show

i’m sure we went out and ate something, then

woke up in white sheets where i

wrapped in sheets and not around you

me wrong-way facing.

so you married the right guy

and the sun coming in the room and the sheets all white and you all gold, all brown

and the air so thin

and the room so big

and the yawn so empty

i’m sure we must’ve gone out for breakfast, and

walked the pier i just don’t remember


whose car was that?


My truck?

No, you rent.

and what was santa monica?

what else was there?

what did we do?

where did we go?

how was it you went home?

to your real property at the lakefront

where they have concerts and summertime shows and dogs and geese and lost earrings

how was it those white sheets in the santa monica?

i just didn’t get it

how was it the mountaintop?

you glisten in the dry, and

i just didn’t get it

“bones are the easy part”

where the air dry

that mountain over there


all is gone

sometimes mountains for now you might ask

“i wonder where he is”

he still in white

in crisp white sheets

down by the beach

in the city near the beach, having come in from desert dry and highway long and

day’s end without a or place to sleep

and we mustv gone

after that gun show

to my sidewalk cafe,

to the books,

to the beach,

to the bums

to marilyn monroe who

got her hair cut there,

to the left of the spanish church only spanish sung

the sheet music strewn about

the hymns on her seat

and she kept her distance

her beach house box