a la Mexicana.

Waiting for my Spanish mistress,

I begin to pace around the room

analyzing the space which I occupy.

She is late, as per usual,

and probably missed the bus.

I hear screams coming from another room,

high-pitched, a woman.

I pour myself a brandy,

as the disorder in the other room intensifies.

I search for a flame to light my fag,

soon finding a book of matches.

I take a drag,

ponder my mere existence,

and exhale.

A cloud of smoke rises.

And then my Spanish mistress arrives,

naked, exposed to the world.

The great phallus revealed,

I jump on the bed,

and welcome a night that will cure me.

If only.

The moon sits low,

as we do our dance,

until the morning light shines.

A la Mexicana.