Her thin pale hands took in mine
We’re lying down on a white mattress
In La Casa Roja, the fiesta has just begun.
My hands are heavily worn from manual
Labor; hers are permanently burned from
Los cigarritos she tries to smoke end to end.
I’m wearing bright pink acrylic and her nails
Are bitten down to the bed. In that moment
I realize how high I am and the Mezcal is alive
Squirming through my limbs. I’m exhausted—
Running around Puebla en la tarde, en la llovizna con ella
I’m still soaked with fervor as she tangles our fingers.
She leads me in the bathroom. I have to go but
She kisses me. Her fervent lip between mine
Reminds me of smoking my bowl back in the States.
She lifts my bra and I feel my way in her turquois tights—
I bite her. Oblivious to the crowd outside waiting and
Banging. She whispers my name, then licks my neck.
We giggle like two small girls and take our piss
Washing each other’s hands. She fixes her hair
In the mirror— our smiles cross. We’re smitten.
She opens the door and I don’t see her for another week.
She’s already in love with someone else.
“I should have kissed you longer.”
–Luecretia, the esoteric ❤
From the Daily Prompt: Ripped From the Headlines