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| PEDRO TREVINO-RAMIREZ | |
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Josey Cuervo No other wind pitches through here like the type akin to the deputy’s daughter; her pulse running cold; you’ll feel its tempo; earth stopper; even the air will taste like her. Don’t look that one in the eye, amigo. You watch her dance, then every highway plants its end at her doorstep. That isn’t the only magic this girl knows: senorita plants kisses in dust fields to tint her twilight flower; men see god when they sip that wanton nectar. Sit back; drink another brew, than another, tonight she’ll break your bones one last time; next round's on me, amigo. |
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© 2003 Pedro Trevino-Ramirez. All rights reserved. |
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