Mariachis in goofy uniforms blowing out cheesy Mexican horns�
I never been to Mexico. Not like this here with you.�
The ground is warm though it's 40 degrees Fahrenheit.�
A throbbing underground finger holds the keys to all music.�
Leaves drop down on my face but they can't bury�
the scent of you on my nose and fingers. God is a child�
who loves repetition, saying over and over do it do it again�
when you go down, we are him.



�2005 by Ray Sweatman