When Flowers Were I n Bloom

When Flowers Were I n Bloom

Wednesday

Corpus Christi

We were pissing angels by the side of the road,
& the queer moon ogled our uncircumcised dicks.
“There’s a mad god behind that odd egg, brother,” I said.
“Or an old woman clucking,” he replied.
And just like that,
a remembrance hatched
:

-- a divine path somewhere in Texas --

Holy laughter
-- hell yeah ---
they were high in the Spirit
as they drove back to Corpus Christi
all flighty & shit.
Pedro Infante’s Amorcito Corazón fondled la luna
nestled in indian paintbrush & cacti.
My old man ahhoooaahed
& busted a coyote-yell, “Mi Mexico lindo.”
Isidro & Pilo howled, “You’ve never been thar.
Never, never been thar.”
They hullabalooed like saints
who’d just broke bread with Jesus.

-- then his story --

I told my queen, mi reina, in an unknown tongue
I told her and she interpreted;
after eighteen years of solitude, I laid it on her.
The king, mi rey, had long since been spirited to heaven.
I swear in a chariot of fire.
And I, now with a liver instead of a heart,
babbled in a stream of consciousness.
She came to me then & cradled me in her arms
as she had done when I was a child.
I wept, & my thoughts curved about her
distorted space and time & set us down in Tehuka, Tejas.
My queen was young & beautiful & had her own teeth,
& lilac from the fields was laid before her by Zephyrs.
Off in the distance I heard my king grunt as he fought
the serpent, whose wife I had mortally wounded
with a Roy Roger 69 cent six-shooter, & in his death throes
he cursed me with his forked tongue,
with his forked tongue,
with his forked tongue ...

-- back to the queer moon --

Full of hallelujah
I drove towards the old Baptist mission
at the outskirts of town,
to my one-eyed rooster,
to my three-legged dog,
to tequila & taquitos,
to my big ass chula on her knees
praying for her lover.
“Can you dig it, my brother,” I asked.
“What a peculiar moon,” he chuckled.
“It was in the giving up.”
“Yeah, it was in the giving up,” he agreed.
The odd moon pissed golden milk on my shoulder,
& cool blue fire stirred in me.
I laughed & did a 10 down Highway 37
straight to Corpus Christi.
“Crazy man, crazy.”

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