Race of Souls

Race of the Souls Guatemala, November first Mountain village, alcohol thirst Mayan tradition command Horses, drunken rider manned Increasingly drunker they ride Through the town close side by side Colliding and crashing Drunken riders are dashing A broken bone, a broken head Occasionally a rider dead Misfortune met with collective shrugs Details swept under collective rugs Continuing until the last one drops Spiritual offering for fertile crops Ironically for the rest of the year No alcohol there except for tourist beer Another true social event brought to you by Uncle Mike