Mexico City, you are so pretty with flowers in your hair
she asked me if I wanted to go see some ruins
I immediately thought I’d seen enough ruins
in the mirror and in recollections
of my own decrepit and decaying life
I didn’t want to see anymore
but her exuberance and desire to be a good host
plus in the vernacular of peppers, she was most definitely a ghost pepper
it was too much to overcome
so we hopped in a jeep for the Teotihuacán
listening to some kind of Mexican hip-hop at first
but she put on some classical mariachi music
at my request
I kept looking out for the banditos or policia
or the Federales
(same thing I was warned)
a mini Baja 1000 that found me
continually spilling my Tecate
on my new blue peasant shirt made in bangladesh
hot and dusty it was exploring
then back home for an evening breeze
homemade enchiladas with rice and beans
tortilla chips and salsa picante of course
washed down with some potent tequila
then a little soft guitar music from her hermano
then off to sleep in a room with a louvered door
under a softly grinding fan saying a few words
which roughly translated meant buenos noches
