En la Plaza

The band's begun to play again, another jaunty, weirdly
Aztec-Spanish polka song, and Manuelita circles me
As if I'm something she could eat. She laughs. Her beer
Can tips and spills, and she herself, now quite unsteady,
Reaches for my hand. I give it. Then I pull her close to me.
She pants and sweats, and lets her lovely head come
Down against my chest. I'll take her home. I guess it's time.
I'll put her into bed and join her. In the morning, I suspect
She won't remember much of this, but I will, and I'll tell
Her, “Oh, dulcita, we had fun.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 53 times
Written on 2010-07-31 at 14:00

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