needing some
meditative quiet,
i go off the pathand into the woods,
i find a slender dirt trail
that leads through
the trees, along the blue lake.
it's quiet until
i reach a clearing where
a picnic is going on
and people
are dancing and blowing horns.
it's a chaotic
party of men and women
half out of their
minds with sangria.
come join us, they say.
come on mister.
come on.
what the hell, why not i think.
they hand me a bottle
of tequila
and say, chug, chug, chug.
the next day
wake up in a motel
i in laurel maryland
with a tattoo on my arm,
and the name
rosalita across my chest.
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