Zepata and El Dayo Inst. 5
With the music of the creek-ets'
farewell songs
fading in their ears
Zepata and Irena
and their mounts El Dayo and Mare
began their coil-spring descent
They had passed from the settlement
pickets after disarming and rearming
the trip wires to their early warning detonators
and Zepata took his lariat from its saddle loop
and gently but firmly tied an end around
Irena's slender waist
The other end around his own
for Mare was not as sure-footed
as Dayo
Zepata not want to lose Irena
if Mare should begin a slide
The first day's ride would be high risk
Zepata never feels comfortable
conveying dynamite on such a ride
but the aerie was the place to store it
The compadres like to play with it
Too much
A rougher band of ferocious rectifiers
of wrong there never was
They have shooting matches using their
own upright fingers as targets
These men many of them have missing
fingers
that were shot away because of tequila
and boolets
but never the index fingers
the trigger fingers they never hold up
for sport
Those fingers are for the Federalis
and serious business
They only allow themselves to lose
two fingers per hand
and then they quit because
they have a job to do
For May He Ko's exploited
these grimy warriors live and die
They may have had one child too many
run over by a landowner's wagon
Or maybe they were cheated in their
meager crop payments once too often
and heard their hungry babies cry
so painful you can nevair know
Something clicks in such a man's brain
after villianies like that
when they happen over and over
they finally say No More
Forkeen A no more
We're going to kick some ass, mon
You theenk we some kind of outhouse
you can dump awn us lak dat?
Give me that bottle of wheesky, Donaldo
Bang bang bang bang bang
Shoot off THIS finger
He holds the middle finger upright
but none of the compadres shoot to hit it
the middle finger needed to express
his outrage
Only the fourth and little fingers
so deep runs the lawv and understanding
of the muchachas
Renata is up in a tree with her spyglass
watching for Zepata and his real woman
She patterns herself after Irena
Uses the razor never
Ties her hair up with catgut
from her own guitar case and oils
herself everywhere
Renata scans the high mountain peak
for the signal mirror's flash
Strains her ears for the sound of falling rocks
but it is to soon this day for such signs
Manana maybe
Fires burn low
slip cawmz
even for those with recently cauterized
finger stumps
becawz theez are sawm tough
sonufabitch'n hombres
Forkeen A, mon
First night camp-out for Zepata
in the hidden escarpment
Again El Dayo turned loose
with Mare disappears
but some serious whinnying gives
evidence of their whereabouts
all night long
Irena removes her leather bandoliers
and all clothing as she must oil
Zepata puts a tarp over their bedsite
for it will rain this night
Already there are no stars
but there are creek-ets
Wait just one forkeen minute
says Zepata
There are no creek-ets at this altitude
He listens and sawn of a gawn
Mariachi creek-ets, 12 of zem
Stowed away in a saddle bag
Zepata becomes festive at their singing
and pulls out his gourd medicine rattles
given to him by an Apache woman
once, north of the border
up America way
Soon Zepata and Irena are laughing
at these brave and foolish insects
for the creek-ets are dancing around the
campfire tossing their little sombreros
into the air and singing their gawts out
Zepata and Irena dance together
they are both without garments
and when they touch the creek-ets
make mock sizzling sounds
Such a merry band there never was
[dzd 6-15-98]
……………………………………………………
farewell songs
fading in their ears
Zepata and Irena
and their mounts El Dayo and Mare
began their coil-spring descent
They had passed from the settlement
pickets after disarming and rearming
the trip wires to their early warning detonators
and Zepata took his lariat from its saddle loop
and gently but firmly tied an end around
Irena's slender waist
The other end around his own
for Mare was not as sure-footed
as Dayo
Zepata not want to lose Irena
if Mare should begin a slide
The first day's ride would be high risk
Zepata never feels comfortable
conveying dynamite on such a ride
but the aerie was the place to store it
The compadres like to play with it
Too much
A rougher band of ferocious rectifiers
of wrong there never was
They have shooting matches using their
own upright fingers as targets
These men many of them have missing
fingers
that were shot away because of tequila
and boolets
but never the index fingers
the trigger fingers they never hold up
for sport
Those fingers are for the Federalis
and serious business
They only allow themselves to lose
two fingers per hand
and then they quit because
they have a job to do
For May He Ko's exploited
these grimy warriors live and die
They may have had one child too many
run over by a landowner's wagon
Or maybe they were cheated in their
meager crop payments once too often
and heard their hungry babies cry
so painful you can nevair know
Something clicks in such a man's brain
after villianies like that
when they happen over and over
they finally say No More
Forkeen A no more
We're going to kick some ass, mon
You theenk we some kind of outhouse
you can dump awn us lak dat?
Give me that bottle of wheesky, Donaldo
Bang bang bang bang bang
Shoot off THIS finger
He holds the middle finger upright
but none of the compadres shoot to hit it
the middle finger needed to express
his outrage
Only the fourth and little fingers
so deep runs the lawv and understanding
of the muchachas
Renata is up in a tree with her spyglass
watching for Zepata and his real woman
She patterns herself after Irena
Uses the razor never
Ties her hair up with catgut
from her own guitar case and oils
herself everywhere
Renata scans the high mountain peak
for the signal mirror's flash
Strains her ears for the sound of falling rocks
but it is to soon this day for such signs
Manana maybe
Fires burn low
slip cawmz
even for those with recently cauterized
finger stumps
becawz theez are sawm tough
sonufabitch'n hombres
Forkeen A, mon
First night camp-out for Zepata
in the hidden escarpment
Again El Dayo turned loose
with Mare disappears
but some serious whinnying gives
evidence of their whereabouts
all night long
Irena removes her leather bandoliers
and all clothing as she must oil
Zepata puts a tarp over their bedsite
for it will rain this night
Already there are no stars
but there are creek-ets
Wait just one forkeen minute
says Zepata
There are no creek-ets at this altitude
He listens and sawn of a gawn
Mariachi creek-ets, 12 of zem
Stowed away in a saddle bag
Zepata becomes festive at their singing
and pulls out his gourd medicine rattles
given to him by an Apache woman
once, north of the border
up America way
Soon Zepata and Irena are laughing
at these brave and foolish insects
for the creek-ets are dancing around the
campfire tossing their little sombreros
into the air and singing their gawts out
Zepata and Irena dance together
they are both without garments
and when they touch the creek-ets
make mock sizzling sounds
Such a merry band there never was
[dzd 6-15-98]
……………………………………………………
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