Mexican Beauty

by Devlin De La Chapa

Sun’s down
in the bastard saloon-
dirty cowboys drinking
water down Whiskey
a Mexican hostess
drenched in cheap perfume.
　
Sun up
I hit the Cochise west,
my tongue stuck
to the planes in my mouth.
Dry spit, the hostess is spent.
　
I see buzzards flying over my head
in Bisbee,
then one laughs-
it’s her
loving me gently
drinking me softly
stealing me harshly.
　
With guns drawn,
envisioning the cheap of her blacken hair,
I shoot at the blistering sky,
bullets backfire ‘til
one grazes my soul.
　
Still drunk
on Whiskey and sorrow
blood is the salt
of that Mexican beauty
who lost me in Tombstone.