Where There Is Nothing Left to Hunt

In Chandler Country

Dana Gioia

California night. The Devil’s wind,   
the Santa Ana, blows in from the east,   
raging through the canyon like a drunk   
screaming in a bar.
                            The air tastes like
a stubbed-out cigarette. But why complain?   
The weather’s fine as long as you don’t breathe.   
Just lean back on the sweat-stained furniture,   
lights turned out, windows shut against the storm,   
and count your blessings.
                                     Another sleepless night,
when every wrinkle in the bedsheet scratches   
like a dry razor on a sunburned cheek,   
when even ten-year whiskey tastes like sand,   
and quiet women in the kitchen run   
their fingers on the edges of a knife
and eye their husbands’ necks. I wish them luck.


Tonight it seems that if I took the coins
out of my pocket and tossed them in the air   
they’d stay a moment glistening like a net   
slowly falling through dark water.
                                                   I remember
the headlights of the cars parked on the beach,   
the narrow beams dissolving on the dark   
surface of the lake, voices arguing
about the forms, the crackling radio,   
the sheeted body lying on the sand,
the trawling net still damp beside it. No,
she wasn’t beautiful—but at that age
when youth itself becomes a kind of beauty—
“Taking good care of your clients, Marlowe?”


Relentlessly the wind blows on. Next door   
catching a scent, the dogs begin to howl.   
Lean, furious, raw-eyed from the storm,   
packs of coyotes come down from the hills   
where there is nothing left to hunt.






The title seems to refer to Raymond Chandler, author and screenwriter of hard-boiled works like Farewell, My Lovely and The Big Sleep featuring private detective Philip Marlowe, as well as one of my favorite noir films ever - Double Indemnity. "Chandler country" is probably around La Jolla, CA, near San Diego where Chandler lived for significant portions of his life. 


Short of Cormac McCarthy in Blood Meridian, I can think of few descriptions of place as evocative and immediate.