MEXICAN BUS

The guitarist plays
With Willy Nelson’s guitar
Storm inside my heart

THE BUS

The girl & her mother
Are riding on the bus
I like riding the bus too
Because the bus driver
Was nice to me
Like in a 1950’s movie

I like the girl’s eye glasses
And her dreamy demeanor
The way she would sigh
Once in awhile
Leaning against her mother
Against that suspicious look

When I ride the bus
I like how you can see
The people walking on the sidewalks
The shops with their esoteric numbers
And their symbolic names

I like the way I can see
Through the windows
Without worrying about
Crashing & dying

I like the way the girl
Was looking at me
With glassy eyes
A peaceful face
A tender presence
Just how I would imagine
My own daughter

I like being on top of the bus
Sitting on the bus
Standing on the bus
Walking away from the bus
Walking towards the bus

The bus tried to kill me and it failed
And your eyes my frail miracle
Make for the beauty of
All the world’s children

Tell you mother to lighten up
Tell her that you love her
Tell her to love you back
Tell her how you feel
Teach her to feel like you do

At the end of the day
As I sat in the taxi
In a different country
With different people
And stronger feelings and
I saw you & your mother
Walking towards the east

LESION

The sofá has stopped
The healing of my right side
Firm dreams are better

WINTER

Lime ice-cream is good
With salt in the afternoons
Flavors of summer

“Game laws should be drawn primarily in the interest of the whole people, keeping steadily in mind certain facts that ought to be self evident to everyone above the intellectual level of those well-meaning persons who apparently think that all shooting is wrong and that man could continue to exist if all animals were allowed to increased unchecked”

T. Roosevelt. 1910

OUR TABLE


He tries to kiss her
I smile & try not to notice
She seems uncomfortable
And he grows impatient

I concentrate on the poets
On the food
The tortillas
And the tequila

They take our pictures
And I tell my boys
To say cheese
And I say cheese with them

The girls look our way
And I remember the drunkard
At the Bob Dylan’s concert
With a scared baby hanging
From his chest as he proclaimed
“Chick Magnet”
And I smile again

But my children
Are having the time
Of their lives
Playfully laughing
With my promoter

They laugh
I laugh
We all laugh
I realize
This is very good indeed

RITUAL

The drinking of fire
Is as important as your love
Both are a matter of survival