Call Me Gringo
I have
the soul of
a wanderer trapped in
a body that has never
left eastern Oklahoma. Plaintive daydreams find
me in Mexico, living the life of
a silent film rogue, swilling tequila and swatting
flies in some summer, sweat drenched cantina, tossing pesos
to a dark eyed girl in full skirt as she dances
barefoot on the table, drunk on the moods of a Spanish guitar.