'Twas a cold día at the rancho,
I'd finished my duties as an abogado
and was getting ready for a swift drink
or two, a daiquirí or margarita
at Callahan's, my favorite pub,
when I noticed the lights were dimmed,
the hound of hell, Cerbero with an attitude
and a breath, gurrl! to wilt the hardiest
roses right down to the stems was making angry
noises at me, snarl, snarl, chica, I tell you
it was enough to put me off my apetito,
and no matter that I blinked my eyelashes,
called it cielito lindo, offered to bring it
empanadas and chorizo, or some arroz con leche,
it growled and wouldn't let me in for days
and I called my congresista and that stalwart
knight, don Pedro Desmond, who offered to speak
in higher places but the diablo wouldn't let me in...
I sneaked in, finally, to say hola, and buenos días,
and gracias for the flowers and the abrazos,
I brought some fresh tortilla and pan cubano.
anyone want a slice?
-- Silvia (SBrandonPere) 7/15/00 |
