youth, emotions run wild across
the untamed eyes those girls;
never understood-at the check out line;
grasping folded note and Napoleon under arm;
Too much heartache for a few hours of comfort.
Let's go to the bar Carlos.
We'll drink our fill nodding to sad lullabies;
And sit on the sidewalk rubbing our bellies;
Watching couples stroll by.
Dreaming of Frida Kohlo;
Painting the world surreal. We sit;
Until the city washes away the faces
of the people on the street island.
Let's go back to the Flying Saucer and have
another round my friend.
It is late, but there's no place I have to be.
2River View, 1_4 (Summer 1997)