#123: Cordillera de los Andes

#123

Cordillera de los Andes

What we do for work,

    is between the night and G-d. 

      What’s a jackknife to a swan? What’s a Spanish word for more hard kisses, for the subtle “wink and nod”?

What’s the answer to a question that is expressed in foreign song? 

      You’re an accommodating woman, so I know for now you’ll play along.

         You’re more than a mouthful. 

  I Could take full bait and talk about your name and place for hours,

        You work the night and the night has not one fuxk of pity for the people it devours.

        One Time when they played Opera, I fantasized about your body pressed against me in a shower.

You are something-someone all desire 

               like an exotic princess

    locked up in a tower, when I close my eyes I see gunfire!

            I see flame and battle- I breathe smoke and every day I build rebellion with the words and stack of deeds I make conspire.

But I am not such a mad man zealot,

     Instead I am another man behind the wire.

You say you’re from the Mountain?

      I reply in Old Castilian, “But I’m a man that walks on fire!”

Your eyes speak one thousand years of beauty, your smile in flames all man’s desire.

Can you undress me, 

      and let me eat you like a mango, like a rose like an ancient mountain flower.

The minutes go by, but I like the tension, 

of Russian roulette on the fly,

      when there is a lot of money on the table and 2 rounds in the chamber!

And not one person on the deck is today afraid to die. 

I saw you, the so-called old fashioned way, a passion play,

 a lasting lock of lips, a both hands on your hips, 

a need to know you, in the right way.

For the weapons on my table!

        for the steel hand on my chest, 

for the unseen G-d and angels, 

      The rebels and “the best”,

the black boxes and the leather straps of prophecy, to bind me, in the last test?

       FOR JUST one more night with you, and only you beside, 

        That’s what they call a true temptation!

“What’s a little more art before the coming winds of revolution, I confide.

          See me inside or outside, 

End the night life, take a long walk with me, not a lap ride. 

    Your bright brown eyes entrap me, your curves and lips enthrall,

         Tell me secrets, tell me screams of passion, the winner can take all.

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