Is April dragging on?

 Don't Ask

Estimated loving memories come hard on the heels of blindness and Rococo furniture.

Wait, I have more to say, but where is Leonard Cohen when I need him?

Probably in Mexico with Lefty and What's-His- Name

riding bareback with sunburns on 50% of his body and saddle burns on most of the rest.

Seems like he was a heavy guy even though he had two children by one different woman.

That's what she wrote this morning on a postcard from snowy Nevada with a picture of a red sky, along with goodbye,

while I was flying paper airplanes of 50 peso bills in the cantinas of love

where the sun never sets on the card table with several mangoes and an onion.

What is wrong with him?, she asked someone I don't know.

He's an incurable dreamer with a sunny prognosis and a death sentence, the only true answer.

I've been from Guadalajara to Merida, Sisal to Progreso, baked by the sun everywhere in Mexico.

When I was able to open my eyes the dermatologist stalking me said I was at least 100% Mexican.

I didn't deny it, although in rational circles I'm thought to be a gringo hybrid.