- Vol. 04
- Chapter 11
WAITING FOR GABRIELA
I wear a sombrero to carry the dew Which I use to relieve my parched lips My scarlet bright blanket was weaved from the few Skinny bighorn that we had to clip.
That’s the story I tell when odd tourists pause To take idiot pictures in groups And offer me paper to ‘promote my cause’ Which in heaven they’ll doubtless recoup.
I sneer at their charity, turn a blind eye As the next gust or thief gets it gone And sit here in comfort, just waiting to die, Passing the time by humming our song.