Saldago, Mexico
By caleibow
I hearthe heavy handed blowing of a horn, and hats fall from the skythe men begin to dance.A taxi driver gets out of his car and sings sad ballads of Franco’s’ reignand the dead are wearing black skull masks.I watcha priest kneeling at the altar prying the gold doors from their hinges.I imaginea pawn shop owners waits without genuflection,a grandma dips her finger in chicken bloodand touches the girl behind the ears.A dog howls and pulls on the tether, causing its neck to bleed.I hear two lovers’ rock back and forththeir sweat,is like salty semen.Above me the sun sits fat and obese in the skya cat is panting in the shade of a mailbox.I’m on a busthe bus is full and a woman feels a hand on her right breast,she turns and an old man smiles at her and makes the sign of the cross.I walkpast a policeman oiling his revolver,he looks at me inventing conspiracies.I walk the street,the barber is asleep in his chair.A young woman takes me by the hand,leads me into an alley,putting my hand on her ebony nipples,my lips are hungry,she slips her hand into my pantsand a sad loud horn plays from a window above. Written August 25th, 2001 © on Aug 24 2001 09:02 PM PST 0 • 16
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"I hearthe heavy handed blowing of a horn, and hats fall from the skythe men begin to dance.A taxi driver gets out of his car and sings sad ballads of Franco’s’ reignand the dead are wearing black skull masks.I watcha priest kneeling at the altar prying the gold doors from their hinges.I imaginea pawn shop owners waits without genuflection,a grandma dips her finger in chicken bloodand touches the girl behind the ears.A dog howls and pulls on the tether, causing its neck to bleed.I hear two lovers’ rock back and forththeir sweat,is like salty semen.Above me the sun sits fat and obese in the skya cat is panting in the shade of a mailbox.I’m on a busthe bus is full and a woman feels a hand on her right breast,she turns and an old man smiles at her and makes the sign of the cross.I walkpast a policeman oiling his revolver,he looks at me inventing conspiracies.I walk the street,the barber is asleep in his chair.A young woman takes me by the hand,leads me into an alley,putting my hand on her ebony nipples,my lips are hungry,she slips her hand into my pantsand a sad loud horn plays from a window above...."