A Drunken Fool's Lovesong
I will mourn for you today,
and ache for the comfort
of when I used to lay my head
across that Buddha belly of yours,
and you used to sing me
your drunken lullabies
(though I knew no difference
at the time).
And I will listen
to this song:
mariachis' high-pitched gritos
accompanying the blaring
brass-tasting trumpet players.
This time, when I see you
dancing to it, sombrero atop
your silver strands,
you won't reek
of that amber-colored
death
anymore.
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