She Went to Mexico Without Me

~She Went to Mexico Without Me~


I don't blame her.

She probably didn't want a smelly,

old man snoring and farting in the back seat

of her car all the way to Mexico.


I'll just stay here, in Idaho.

Water boxes of sugar beets in the shed,

and imagine how life could have been

beneath a sombrero, wrapped in a serape,

happily drunk in the sun, with

my butt on the ground, my back

against an adobe hut. To my right,

a few chickens scratch dirt for bugs.

On my left, the current generation of flies

sparkle and shine like green and yellow stars

on turds of burros.


D. B. Tompsett

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The descriptive power of this

The descriptive power of this poem is enormous.