Midnight Southwestern Fairytale

We ate home-made burritos stuffed with cheese and meat
Doused with the fire of Cholulua hot sauce.
The insides oozing out with each bite.
Messy and sloppy, we sopped each other up like a sponge,
Sharing tongues and kisses; cleaning each other
Like so many animals do.
With anxious frenzy and instinctual appetite.
We ate by candlelight.
The glow of the beeswax candles flickering and dancing
In their crystal cupped shoes.
Wax dripped and burned our hands when our fingers neared
Coating a copy of our skin against our skin,
Burning like relentless pyros.
To our amazement, we toasted.
To our mythical love and our Balder fate.
"Mi Amor!" You rejoiced.
You squirmed - voice lowered to deep octane,
Drawled out like an outlaw in a whorehouse;
The outer corners of your thin lips curled
and snarled -
"So muy bonita."
Devil in a cowboy hat and Levi jeans, you were.
Dollar store cups plastic and awkward smashed,
head on collisions -
Filled to the brim with Tops brand ginger ale
That sparkled and exploded
into tiny little bubbles looking nothing less than tanned
pearls,
The liquid splattered like gold in a San Francisco's rush.
All went in the air to never return.
Quivering like faux gemstones would in the tarnished shore
of an imperious Colorado river.
Lightheaded from drink, we drank some more -
Ale filled with carbonation and love;
We burped to our delight,
Finding humor in such a gross bodily act.
We even made a game out of it, to see
Who could burp the whole alphabet
Without breathing once.
You won, of course.
Beneath us, rode a magic carpet.
Mexican blanket weaved with rainbow threads
Burlap textured, rough beneath our hands and elbows.
In the center, stared a squared Zapotec eagle, wings on its
sides,
A black filled eye staring back at us without mercy.
My toes played with extended wool fingers that tapered
into skinny snakes along the edge of the blanket,
Grand Canyon kissing the tiny rivers below -
I flirted relentlessly, spiraling them like noodles,
wrapping until
my pinky toe became violet and blue.
I dabbed the outer corner of your cheek
With a paper towel I had wettened with my spit.
And you smiled back, sea-green eyes glittering
My doe brown eyes returned the favor, intimately making love
Until we became of one spirit, of one sight.
vision of mystery and wonder.
With a swift tug, you pulled me near and close.
Chest to chest, we clung - tightly.
felt the hammering of our hearts.
Pounding, anticipating - hoop drums.
Thrashing, and jerking about.
Our hearts whirled and raced; raced and whirled.
We felt the thunder of wild horses
the screams of coyotes hungering in a thirsty land.
The electricity of dry storms and pounding rain
Lightening piercing the white-washed southern sky
With energy and Shaman ambition.
Suddenly, New Mexico was transported and laid out like a Christmas
gift.
National Geographic and Georgia O'Keefe's Ram's Head
Coming to life.
Moss green cactus's and copper sands dusted like lost tumbleweed
Bursted, shot full of holes and blaze.
Fireworks and rockets, bells and whistles.
The sky bundled us up in its dark swaddling;
A womb of twinkling stars lay inside like a midsummer's dream.
Falling light stumbled in a drunken stupor
And the milky way coated the black tarred night
With its delicious white cream etched with bruised veins.
Perfect in such natural simplicity.
It is then, at that moment of time,
that richness stained me with its wealth -
Your arms draped across like loose linen,
Mosquito-proof, thin and anorexic,
Skin barely touching surfaces of pink flesh.
Yet - your touch barely felt;
You were;
A ghost walking into me - melding into one
Entity and apparition.
An Indian healer of metaphysical capacity.
Ancestor of the natural nation.
Shamanic lover who
Gave me magic no earth or herb could give.
You gave me aphrodisia -
My spirit once again flew - with flight.
An angel without the halo, but with the light.
And so, we laid there,
Underneath the blanket of the universe,
The sounds of night; a concert of
Monkey grasshoppers and camel crickets -
Laughing, loving, smiling, delighting -
In a midnight southwestern fairy tale.
El amor; amando la pareja.
Dreaming of an Arizona fantasy
In a sleeping Buffalo city where the sun
Never shines, but rests.