Mexicali Blues
Eat, sleep, drink
your Mexicali blues
hiding in door frames
and under soiled bedsheets
waiting to be heard
or found by another
someone who would listen
to your gray grieving heart
unspent passion burning
through you like
an uncontrolled brush fire
spilling from your lips
in prose ridden fragments,
bleeding from your gut
as you wretch
yesterday's tequila
leaving pieces of
you and your soul
on the dirty white floor
Scoop up what's left of your small dignity
and pray as the night sucks you in,
deep into its bowels,
deep into the black,
pray that you'll make it
out of the bars and onto the street
where you might get lucky
and you might not
but at least you'll wake up in a bed somewhere
with your head aching and stomach churning
enough to make you forget
why you came here and
ate and slept and drank
your Mexicali blues.
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