in midwestern diners, they order horchata, frijoles, y arroz
and squeeze their watermelon hips on red, plastic stools
while waiters savor their flavorful accents
dripping of rumored mojitos, tequila, y piña colada.
onlookers whisper, they’re spanish girls
and listen to the humming of tenochtitlan in their voices.
where are you ladies from? waiters ask, and
they don’t say spain.
–
old palm tree leaves, tangy cocktails, juanas y marias—
la rojigualda
brand their faces, despite the taste of
other earths on their tongues, spurting with everything
but the lives of spanish girls.
Reblogged this on The Mirror Obscura and commented:
A lovely poem. >KB
Thank you so much! 🙂
It was my pleasure. Truly a lovely poem. Smiles>KB
Aww. *blushes* I appreciate your kind words.
Reblogged this on Thekellygeorge's Blog and commented:
Beautifully written-
Aww thank you. ❤
Great poem 🙂
Thank you 🙂
Once again lovely ^^
Thank you very much 🙂
A vivid image, great writing
Thank you very much. 🙂
Gorgeous writing! Thank you! I love this part-
“…brand their faces, despite the taste of
other earths on their tongues,…”
Cheers!
Wow! Thank you so much. This means a lot to me. Made my night! 🙂
😀