28 Oct 2015 – Half-Asstina 2
The heavens – burnt bacon; greased lightning kissed mountains;
the sun over easy like huevos rancheros.
Well toasted by daybreak. A sweet señorita
with dusky eyes, salty lips, dear Margarita.
Your eyes are disasters – caliente and bloodshot,
a ruinous wreckage – the devil’s piñata!
Gravel trucks of dust gray rain. Fall’s doomed piñatas
swinging in the forests: Appalachian mountain
drying racks for maples raging gold and bloodshot.
Gringo border-crossings watched by grim rancheros
for the bawdy-house perfume of Margarita,
Aphrodite’s dusk-eyed child, sweet señorita!
Winters don’t wear well on languid señoritas.
Children scatter memories, and your piñata
empties out both sweets and sorrows. Margarita,
come and give a kiss before I seek the mountains.
There I’m bound to ride at dawn with Deaths’ rancheros,
horses shod in iron, and every wraith’s eyes bloodshot.
Bloodshot señoritas serve huevos rancheros:
piñatas of the mountains leaking Margaritas.