In this alien Spanish town,

Beyond the seas and land’s frown,

Might is upfront but the will is down,

No wonder that the sky has worn nature’s gown.


As the sun rises upside down,

And the two hoopoes wheezes,

As the wind in their courtship rituals teases,

And as the drive of the air Breezes,

Is when the creative longing,

That they contain wholly Sneezes.


And so as my table leases,

The Glass is empty but I haven’t finished my Wine,

As more of my Amigos desperately line and dine,

Should I part or further my own shine,

I am asking you inhibited,

I am pleading for your approval,

O sweet little rhyme of mine.


This too shall pass.

No one needs this stay.

You all are better than that.

If not, then I am better than you all.

These seven hours have taken wonder’s disguise.

But no longer shall I be fooled by it’s treachery.

I really am better.

Better and greater.


And just about when I am to finish this lore,

The one about to replace me and show me the exit’s way…

“Por Favor.”

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