manzanillo, mexico
when those jade waves licked us
like eager puppies,
when we swam into those jaded waves
like newly-born guppies,
and the pinnacle hotels of manzanillo
were picture-framed by curvaceous mountains
that reeked of strong coffee
and fully-ripened bananas.
we might have made love
on the beach before shadows dawned,
before the hotel even opened and upon
each of us fawned
with whole fish battered in garlic butter
and smothering shots
of decent tequila.
we rode the bus all night long
through landscapes loaded with discernible hazards,
past all-nite diners serving luke-cold enchiladas;
as for food stuffed in backpacks
we brought along
just about nadas.
i fell in love once again,
one morning in manzanillo,
with a moreno-haired mermaid
with the last name first bequeathed
by some ancient jaramillo.
