Almost home

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Almost home


Took me 26 years and four bloody wars zones and I learn.
Monterey was still there,
the Pacific was still dancing and you could buy a cup of Irish Coffee on the pier.


I wrote into a old journal.

“Dear Monterey


My California dream,
I left you in 1992,
I never forgot your face,
never forgot those hazel eyes,
never forgot your long colorful long cotton dresses and
you dancing with the sea.


I learn you can’t kill every memory,
can’t kill everything you loved,
can’t drink enough to kill the sweetest days, the sweetest nights.


Today is warm in Monterey,
old city had changed,
once a sanctuary for the free people,
poets, writers and music people.
now filled with strangers seeking the beauty of the bay and Big Sur.


I remember your last words to me,
“Promise me nothing, promise me everything Johnnie.
Please quit the Army,
the damn Army is stealing your soul.
In the end, you will become a ghost of what you were.
Please love me right, love me wrong.
Please, just stay in Monterey.
I can sell my herbal medicine and you can become the Monterey dark Poet.
You can write your books and sell them by the sea.
You can become Hemingway and I will be your Hadley,
find safety in a cabin at Big Sur,
Dear Johnnie, life is short , love can be sweet.
Let’s create some perfect days.”


I sat alone drinking some Irish whiskey and I whispered to the sea.
I am here, just a ghost looking for a miracle.


Dear California, I saw you yesterday selling herbal medicine. You ran to me and you held me like a child. You told me. “Johnnie, you became a old man. You learn the Hemingway lessons, war is shit and you cannot return to where you have began. You left your Hadley. Damn whiskey, damn wars and dancing with death, made you forget me.”


We held hands near the sea for hours and I told her. My California dream,
I never forgot you, in the worst days, I remembered you.
You were my kindest days, the days of sweet kisses and the long walks on the beaches of Monterey. You kept me sane and I knew. I was heavy with the need to test the Devil and you my dear love. You were sugar and spice and everything nice,
you didn’t need a man seeking the good death.


I feel a gentle touch and I turned,
a California dream with eyes of green,
hair of gray,
embraced me tightly and she whispered.
“Let’s trick the damn Gods, let’s make them think, love had won.
I am here Johnnie,
please stay and allow the Pacific to heal you,
let’s the blessing of Big Sur,
to make you learn great dreams and learn to hope again.
We can be like Hemingway and Hadley,
find our safe place to be.


I saw tears in her eyes and I whispered.
I shall never leave you my California dream.

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Dancing Coyote