The Sun & the Scorpion

Dead center of the plaza, at the heart of town,

A Mayan water bearer pours out water for the peaceful people.

White dress, naked feet,

Flowers in thread across her chest in blue, yellow, green.

A rocket screams,

Bursts over the church and blooms red in the pool’s reflection.

Around me palms are rustling.

The night is deeper & darker because more unknown.

The wind is cheerful with churros & crepes,

And neon letters, cut sharp against the black eternity, beckon me on.

Higher we climb, to the roof, to the roof,

Where thirty tables shine with their own moonlight

And colored paper flutters against the promise of complete annihilation

Though I have been thousands of years in the making.