You have the Sea as your muse I have the Night...for you dear friend,

A very open and direct conversation with the Night, no Moon involved.


Open your legs so I can see your soul,

I told the night and it did while Clapton

played, made me think of the luscious thighs

and its inviting hips while the blues

does what it knows how around the room.


Release the pain stuck in this freakin’

mind just itching to leave I told the night,

it said, “sure all right” while Clapton

sang for the second time, around the globe,

and the broken lava lamp in the nightstand

no effect whatsoever, but nevermind.


Hey, did you know that I was in love once?

I told the night, yeah sure, she responded

while smoking her Camel cigarette on a long stick.

With a sigh of disgust, she looked at me,

Aren’t you supposed to write?


Sure…about, healing cancer, saving the lost

some damn virus with a beer's name,

all those lovers that did me wrong,

the poem I never wrote in that savage

Bukowski way…


“Common baby,” I said once more, open your legs

and let me see what you’re made of

there are hunger and thirst in my bitter soul tonight.
_____________________

Guadalupe Cisneros Villa

Writing in Dallas, but sure wishing it was somewhere else near the beach

May 19 ‘20