Thorny Mexico

The thorny path to Mexico,
caves full of roses,
descending a merry distance, my
rope unraveling, strings loosed, I
sank into a bed of poppies.

The thorny path to Mexico,
I’m the cactus by a lonely pump,
Rattlesnakes are God, His
vengeful bite, the
sun slides off the plateau.

The thorny path to Mexico,
Decapitated bandits mingle with the dust,
desert air strangles and refreshes, my
grave lies under the arid steppe, my
salvation, in the sagebrush.