A 65 year old man our neighbors in La Cruz knew as an eccentric
disappeared on the way to the Marquesas, he’d brought along a young woman to crew (23)
he was a purist (a derogative)
maybe he had a hand held GPS, maybe he didn’t have anything
it’s her family who noticed she was missing
his boat was slow, heavy and slow
it’s been 45 days,
the question is,
did he have water?
There are a lot of questions.
Dancing horses, lathered, one bloodied nose
long shank spade bits, mechanical hackamores and spurs
Corona Light has cornered the market
a gringa sharing a saddle that’s a tight fit,
she looks unsure of her own reaction
the vaquero expects applause perhaps
for his kidnapping, but gets little reaction
the band blasts, their indefatigable armature
and you can feel they’ve been at it for hours
and its not even dark, an alcoholic marathon
a young girl slips among the crowded feet
collects beer cans, neatly empties them and fills plastic bags
a plywood stage shakes and buckles, but survives
the stopping of dancers feet
men with their hands behind their backs
the women solemnly parade the saint before dancing
swirling skirts white and red
an aztec dance with rattles on the ankles
looks oddly Egyptian
quarter sticks of dynamite randomly rattle the windows
up the dirty cobblestone street,
behind a cyclone fence blocked with plastic tarps
a pile of losers
roosters who lost their fights
a thin man spitting and strutting (rubbing his nose nervously or)
calls out the time, as spurs are strapped on
and the “trainers” stretch the Gallo’s legs and antagonize them to fight
the current champ cradled waiting in his owners arms
new birds arrive in specially designed cardboard boxes,
with convenient handles, and professional logos of roosters
a young woman tosses water melted from the ice to keep the dust down
you need a ticket to see more than the blur of feathers
when occasionally they leap above two foot board of the fighting ring
men, and a couple women, watch dispassionately
the announcer calls out the stages of death
still flapping wings, dropped in the pile of losers
a truck arrives with more boxes (MS)
