Wednesday, May 06, 2009


An old fairy
Rode with me
On the bus

She had a pleasant face
And red hair
She wore denim
And sat all the way
In the back seat

We looked at each other
I looked at her sunglasses
And she looked at me
Her lips controlling smirk
A smile of
A nice lady

When she got off the bus
I watched her through the window
Walking away amongst traffic
And she disappeared

Now that she was gone
I sat on the back seat
On the corner of
That transportation vehicle
That always reminds me
Of a loaf of bread

A teenage girl sat beside me
And began to read
A love letter
Written with red ink

Her sunglasses had
Pleasing decorations
I read a couple of lines
Of her letter and decided
There were better images
To read on the other side
Of my window

At the final stop
I walked out of the bus
And walked into Mexico
I coveted the soldiers
Machines guns as
I passed them by
And hurried to
Catch a bus that
Would take me downtown

These buses are always better
Because they provide
Live music

The troubadour sang:

“para que nunca amenezca”
“para que nunca amenezca”
“para que nunca amenezca”
“para que nunca amenezca”

And the music
Provoked a beautiful black woman
Her eyes began to dream
An image that only
She understands
And I thought to myself
This is like nothing else


Nelly Cervantes said...

pareciera que la dama, la chica y la negra son la misma mujer.¿Lo somos?

Martínez said...

No lo sé... quizá tú lo sabes... me parece un excelente tema de conversación... ¿prefieres té, café o vino?