In a battered Chevrolet
we steered past surf Oceans
along the dark desert highway
warm wind in our hair
singing the bending route
to the doorway welcome
at the Hotel California
where we stopped for the night
tall sons mirrored by the ceiling
danced in the courtyard
with the pretty pretty girls
in sweet sultry sweat
who brought us the wine
by graffiti-basted walls
and we signed our names
in tequila haze
next to the old guys
moments to remember
moments to forget
such a lovely place
such a lovely space
our voices echoed down the corridor
we could check-out
any time we liked
and we could leave
back to the shimmering light
of Pacific breakers
on the Baja California.