On Saturday night (which is alright for fighting)
I drove to a place where mosquitos were biting
my ankles. The itching! For all that is holy!
Thank God for Dos Equis and fresh guacamole.
(I’m not thanking God for Dos Equis at all.
Drinking ONE made me consider finding a pall
bearer for carrying me dressed up and boxed up and dead.
Cause of demise? A beer-induced pain in the head.)
But back to the story! Mexican food with friends!
I’ve known them for decades! I’ve used a few pens
to write stories about them in my old high school journal.
My core group. My favorites. Dare I say my diurnal?
(Please forgive my rhyming. I don’t try it often.
Evidence? Line seven. Reference to my coffin.)
Hacienda in Rock Hill. A table for six.
We’re so different now, but we know how to mix.
Speak of kids, not of politics. Mention food from your kitchen!
And if you can help it, please avoid religion.
(A shout out to Linda, for my beer she did pay,
She helped me find the bathroom when I lost my way.)
I learned many things that night before offering Goodbyes.
Did you know someone’s job is to blow horses’ eyes?!