Mojito Conjuring

Mojito Conjuring When the bruja in the red dress sends me out this time, it is for the taste of sour oranges and garlic. Once, when I plied her with a cigar called Hoyo de Montyerrey, she coiled the smoke, said that I was still feral and untamed, sent me out for sugar so that I could learn my true name. Scythe-swinging, field-slave-singing, I could not return to her coven of one until I had learned that my “Suarez” meant that I was the son of sugar itself – the child of wild ingenious devouring the rows of cane like a dragon. Now, red-dress bruja breathes out clouds of tobacco *****, turns the cigar round and round, tells me to gather garlic and aurantium oranges so that the sour and the sucre may jibe together in me, and leave me properly christened for when it is time for me to work, time for me to sweat, time for me to sing.