spunpinkglass

In the sterile desert chasms of Mexico I wandered, weary from the gathering light Unsure of the journey that found me in such squalor Near midday I happened upon a shack Standing alone within the dry landscape Behind the fabric door sat a dusty man who matched his edifice In the drapery of his surroundings He was dark skinned, his age-worn features wise “Hola viejo.” No response It was then I found his charge, settled content upon his lap A serpent, vicious and menacing in appearance When I took notice the old man began to speak “Este,” he slowly spoke, holding up the beast by its throat “Estrella.