Moony

Moony made it down to Mexico,
past wilted women in homemade cottons
     and men smoking spliffs through holes in their throats,
dogs died in ditches after a dissatisfied life on the open road,
when Dios calls the bitch mutt home
     the bitch mutt goes,
scores of crows flood the sky diving in droves
     nesting in blossoming teenagers' clothes,

Moony waddled through it all,
with balls of dope in his ass laughing madly
     at the insanity of a man squirming with illegal contraband,
his hands clammy under every shake,
his eyes shifty and his smile fake,
hauling poisoned freight nestled so very closely to his prostate,
a thin trail of blood slithers from his dilated ass lips
     like an infant crimson snake,

Moony makes his way to where jackals wait,

they welcome him into their den in blue berets
     and cocked AK's,
mustachioed men with dark skin
     and sullen face,
the last of the great Aztec race,
a man named Juan Castillo displays his place
     within their ranks,
points to a desecrated bathroom,
bids Moony make haste,
go spread his legs
     and lose the last of his civilized grace.

TA