Santa Ana's Wind

Swift Legs Mojave won in flagrante delicto

         slow dancing in Santa Ana’s arms

and they blew hot toward forgetfulness

         down the 10 passed San Berdooni‘s charms

where her old red stolen wreck’s engine

         and his shiny black convertible top

finally caught fire in a two-star pile-up

         in a motel parking lot late night stop

well he had her and she had him

         while they slept off a naked tonic and gin

celebrating a Vegas win on a moon cool autumn night

         Ana’s old hot wind started blowing again

through his mother’s garage in Hacienda Heights

        

         old mom threw some gas on the flame with

her Jesus jive over ice-cold beer and they

         booked into Hollywood with hell

freezing over and a dream in gear of finding

         some fame engraved in a big bronze star

under their dirty feet and old chewed gum

         burning up tombstone boulevard