The Very End

It’s too hot to feel

So I slump uneducated like

Fueled on Spanish air

Into my seat at the mellow café

Flutes are winding through the

caverns of our eyes

    Four teen-agers have to leave –

   Because they won’t make a purchase

I am in love with a sweet Mexican girl

   who is sitting three seats away

    Her breath is on the back of my neck

      with the scent of lavender and

        chili peppers.  So beautiful to the

             eyes – a caramel color

              Draped over her skin

                As if a Matador approached

                   with hesitation – to the ring

                     to the tense horns.

             Ready to be driven or guoged

                with a quick jab like action

                      Opening up one’s life

                 Releasing the truth out into the

                     Valley night for it to be Swimmed in

                     Swimmed through…. swimmed with

                            with the grace of fire swiftly

                                 and with Egrets overhead

                             and smelling of mesquite bushes

                                 and hyacinth… or rose and frangipani

                                     sweeet into the nose breathed on

                                                from the wind, from the memories

                                                            of heaven and my candy factory

                                                            Inside the sweet

                                                            suet filled chimney, I trace

                                                                        it all back down

                                                                        the highway, to the Northeast

                                                                        One quick carload of

                                                                        chance and transcendence

                                                                        Now waiting for

                                                                        the wind to change direction

                                                                        I agree to follow my

                                                                        desires to their

                                                                        very end…



Brett Simpson - 1996

California Writings

Copyright © 1996 by Brett A. Simpson, All Rights Reserved, World Rights Reserved