Sa Coma
Showering sparks, indigo and lemon hued
Sashayed coaxial sambas on orbs that quietly died;
When fell the crush of sable, black as pitted olives,
Palm leaves scraped the sundown, a vision blurry eyed.
Farewell to the sway of dusky thighs and loins
Burnished to a copper tone by the Spanish sun;
Weeping sweetest glycerine, resorting to indifference
Against replacement tourists when all is said and done.
I have seen the ocean burn with butter oil anointed,
Laced with solar drowning in a cobalt orange fire;
And it has been a witness to my soul's implosion
And could not quench nor quantify my pale and cold desire.
In gaseous swigs of San Miguel and cocktail hour pity,
Imbibed like no tomorrow in a rush of cheap cologne;
Dumb smiles endure reprisals, violet lips and cherry kisses
And whatever dies of wanting, dies in silence, dies alone.
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