Poem: Villa


Don’t let it end like this
Tell them I said something:
The sky is blue
My mother’s arms were brown
All I felt were forty shots
A roadster windshield provides no protection

* * *
Picking up the gold
For the golden revolution
I was ready to retire
I earned my rest, compañeros
I had two goats for dinner
Light a candle
Open the gate that goes around the garden seven times
There are horses in the south, can you hear them?

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