claro casket

Busting bricks off the overpass, the freeway snipers and dim glow of an orange sunset. I miss El Paso, the caramel rivers of Mexican Caravan's, petite taco vendors and inky Juárez faded blue tattoo's. Child-Asesino's with automatic rifles, the Sinaloa Cartel and their fancy diamond-etched marijuana belt buckles, the Zeta's and their pearled bathtubs full of dismembered officials, barrels of pack-mule cocaine.

I always wanted to be a shadow of death in old Mexico, the clank of agonizing produce-wagons, the hordes of toothless bandito, suicidal black flies at the mouth, the lifeless brim of the biggest sombrero and gold-plated pistol, star-shaped spurs and stolen gringo ostrich boots in the dirt. A robusto cigar, A pale horse, lavish saddle, milk and honey. Dilapidated stone-dwellings, caked amber cement-mud, stray chickens and a skinny white goat tethered to a skeletal fence post. An old wooden bucket with bullet hole in it, an ocean of curious chocolate eyes,  I wanna ride past the lonesome cactus, the silhouette of dying, how it fades into the horizon, the pallid haze at dusk, the somber glint of light flashing from a silver medallion, the decayed steeple of a ancient church, an ugly yellow whorehouse, the prostitutes look like dolled up scare-crows with badly painted features, one grease-stained belly about to pop with the demon seed of a gunslinger, a flat tortilla in a metal pan, the rotten stables and intrinsic poverty of intricate Aztec abodes, my laconic slope, loving trigger, the red color around you, shivers of the graves I've dug, the whispers and funerals of sorrow, light beard and gritty Stetson-Bat Masterson cowboy hat, the heavily dotted pebbles in the sand, the covered brown faces shying away and parting like the sadness of the sea.