Tezcatlipoca Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

Tezcatlipoca

Going up and down the show isles inhabited by spiritual healers up the kazoo, he talks with one then another and gleans things about himself only his confessor would know, if he had one.

And no! it wouldn't be the San Francisco Church of Satan though its God makes an appearance hailing him with the charismatic 3-fingered-fist. Mimicking, he responds with a mirrored Heil Satan. His face, framed by a goatish beard and mustache, and sanguine glint in his eyeballs is over the top.

One occultist attracts his wandering eye. Yeah, looks matter. The cardboard bulletin on her table announces she reads fate in the blind while drawing. He thinks to himself hey! He can handle this job. He plunks across her table, between what he guesses her spread knees under a colorful hippie skirt and is mesmerized by her almond eyes.

She has just the right olive skin complexion for her calling. Well, OK, maybe it's just make-up. An assistant stretches a red bandana from ear to ear covering her dazzling azul eyes. She grabs his left hand and with her right starts scribbling wildly on a large sheet of drawing paper before her.

Concurrently she speaks words of wisdom about his future and where he's heading. Images of Mayan pyramids and squared buildings and snaky rivers appear in great detail among the jungles of the Quintana Roo. Every few minutes an assistant exchanges a finished drawing for a fresh sheet of paper.

Her words stream from her gorgeous plump lips. It's before Botox! He sees these perfect images, but in reverse and starts bawling irrepressibly for the next ten minutes. Of course not a word issues from his mouth while he swims in tears as she hands him a stack of drawings filled with non-descript color fields.