mexicali BluesMature

The air rushed by with screaming trees, cragged rocks
West on the right, East on the left, chugging south
America never felt so good.
Brown-hat pencil boys in their minuteman smiles,
Vigilante justice
Reddened sunsets end each day down Route 5, devouring moist, muggy
El nino at our sides, we stick it through the teary earth.

                The sky lit up hours later, Mexicali in our sights, the Blaxicans
And Berry Pickers watched us crawl slowly toward the line,
Poor rabid souls, left for feeding on grapes and picking cotton.
Only dollars in our pockets,
Sense in our minds.
“Gringo, where you going hey?”
A lumpy fellow with the name Pancho embroidered on his shirt asked us.
“Crazytown, you know where that is?”

Small shoulder girls, copper-eyed, smelling of dusty air and starving stomachs.
    The mysterious one zeroed in, eyeing me up, down, like a hungry lioness
Waiting to pounce her prey.
            The Mexicali air tasted good, the sun seemed brighter, the people seemed
Old Saloon door creaked open, sat a stare, grabbed a brew.
Watching old revolutionaries spill out their stories,
                Fighting over two aces and a double-crossing move.
Jet and I watched the girls sit, tiny little bodies,
Wanting nothing more than a taste of Mexicali’s finest

Tozi was her name.  Jet-black innocence, fresh out of the fields.
Idle talk led into my hotel room above the old drinking well.
Her tongue tasted of tequila, she led her fingers down each arm
                Unwrapping the tiny dress
Closing my eyes, sat back, watched her revel in my bones
While tasting more of her
Gold eyes never left mine, blue as the sky, watching it set that dusk
Sent me back to my California days
While rocking back and forth
Celestial overtones took in the room.
                    Five hours later, after cresting the top of Mt. Popocatepetl
almost 10 times, I felt 80 dollars worth it.
She left the bed, like clocking out of work, that easy.

That night, Mexico felt grand.
Drunken gossip echoed outside the old fire-lit street.
                Her smell all around, I lit a cigarette and watched the fireworks
                            Fade into the starry, sunless night.

The End

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