Tag Archives: Toña

A bag full of button pushers

Flor de Caña                            mapacho spliffs
       for breakfast
on the way to Managua

     three days
without CB1 antagonization
outside of Masaya on a small papaya farm

       mutts with dangling     udders
  tied to palm trees          smoke
rising from a volcano                a little puppy
     appears          a tarantula walks by
                  The Great Gatsby

           in the little green honda
    dish out cordobas
treble techno taxi
    smell of burning trash
everywhere           zoombeep the chicken bus

                    you played
       with your astral hoop              taking
                long exposure shots of the light
       patterns                thinking I was in
love              wondering if we were
really                  just                              I

didn’t sleep
     ’til we passed thru Granada
                     the oldest city in the Americas
skeptical as a blown up hospital
                or a crater lake gone dormant  
  for a swim         a silver married Aerostar      
wandering the streets for Toña at 3am

¿Puedo comprar una cerveza?
               …¿Que?                                Toña
              Ohhhhhh…                           gracias
                     Sólo… necesito veinte cordobas

  all gated up wasted bodies littered the street 

Sólo           necesito
veinte       cordobas            
                                                No tengo, no tengo
            (fireworks every thirty minutes all night)

Trout said it wasn’t the cactus
                          I was looking for
      Weefee San Juan Del Sur
                               volcanic earthquakes
       at the bar
                               the power goes out
  every other hour
     a Jesus and Mary parade         assembles
a Jamaican with a    levamisole handshake
                                           mirths gold teeth

           Landcruiser pothole buzzhands ring
                  in the howler monkey’s
       jungle         their howls in the blue morning
heard for misty miles        swaying in the windy
      trees                going for a walk down
    to Playa Mathilda                           two girls
              with red eyes on the beach
        making necklaces

                                   You got any weed?