ZEPATA
INSTALMENT VII
Irena riding ahead of Zepata
On the downward trail to
The rendezvous with the encamped compadres
Knew Zepata was studying her posterior
She always sensed his warming gaze
From behind
Zepata lak to choke, she mused
I have ice in bek of my rumpal zones
And she gave him silent thanks for
His taste
His taste, her thoughts wandered
And his smell Si
Everything about Zepata
Irena loved
Could not get enough of
She liked being sanded
All over by his whiskery stubble
And when she shaved Zepata
She looked forward to the next day
When it would be rough again
Zepata in Irena's eyes
Was a model of what a man might be
He was not a tall man
By some peoples' measure
But he carried himself
And he had an aura about him
That made him seem
Like a ducker in doorways
Zepata's arms, mighty bear traps
Or cradling cushions
Zepata's eyes, beacons
Day or night
With gentle kindness and empathetic
Sunburned squint lines
Yet he could brutishly stare down
Poised cougars and had done so
Zepata's way with Irena
Was slow and easy
He could run long distances
Tirelessly on foot
Once was pulled 25 miles
Behind a Federali horse
With a rope around his neck
His hands tied behind him
Before being rescued by the compadres
And then he cut the legs off
The Soldier who dragged him, killed him
With the big knife on his belt
Left him to die slowly in the sun
This helped him understand
Patience and the blessing
Of endurance in all things
It seemed everything that
Happened to Zepata
Everything made him
A better lover in some way
The women before Irena
And Irena more than any
Appreciated what Zepata had given
For his Country's poor and
Exploited
Because they saw his ravaged
body
And tended it lovingly
Zepata was not a handsome man
In the popular standard
Of the day
Nor was he young anymore
He started out young
But then in doing he got un-young
And there was something
All the more lovable about him
His stride, ah yes
Irena secretly coveted
His walk
The way he walked
Something to behold
Purposeful
Bearish
His wide and muscular shoulders
Fit through no portals head-on
Zepata had to turn sideways
To negotiate the doors
Of the peasant dwellings
In which he so often sought
Sustenance and shelter
Always moving from place
To place
Always pursued
So it was something to see
Federali-intimidated
Wary of any visitor
Mexican families in their
Rude huts
Ground by fate like the meal
Between their corn stones
Ground down to near powder
Themselves
They get the word
Prepare a place for Zepata tonight
He is coming
Maybe he stop
- their hero their saviour -
Not with them
But with some other luckier poor
Always with the poor
But Si
Dayo's hooves get louter and
Louter and enter our courtyard
Our cheekens chump awp and town
And lo
Zepata is town from hees great hoe-worse
And before they can run to meet him
Zepata's spurs jing-jing on their wooden porch
And they cheer and cannot wait to embrace the man
Who will be their guest
The man who has been dragged
Through cactus for them
Who has been perforated by Federal bullets
For them is with them
Always but now incarnate
In the flesh
The man nobody can kill
Appears in their doorway, knocks and
Steps through the beads
One shoulder at a time
Takes off his bandoliers wearily
Returns their tax money with golden interest
And receives their tears and joyful supplications
With tenderness and love
He caresses all the children
Everybody around took their best food
And cooked it but it will be
This family tonight
So many scenes like that
Drift through Irena's head
As she rides on with
Zepata's eyes upon her
And she says to Zepata Si
Eet is time for siesta
Si I mus' holt you my lawv
I mus' you know eet
The creek-ets in her saddle bag
Hear this and begin to tune their instruments
And gargle
For after this rest the little bawgs know
It will be the Federal Bank of Mexico
And a daring robbery
[dzd 7-25-98]
……………………………………………….
On the downward trail to
The rendezvous with the encamped compadres
Knew Zepata was studying her posterior
She always sensed his warming gaze
From behind
Zepata lak to choke, she mused
I have ice in bek of my rumpal zones
And she gave him silent thanks for
His taste
His taste, her thoughts wandered
And his smell Si
Everything about Zepata
Irena loved
Could not get enough of
She liked being sanded
All over by his whiskery stubble
And when she shaved Zepata
She looked forward to the next day
When it would be rough again
Zepata in Irena's eyes
Was a model of what a man might be
He was not a tall man
By some peoples' measure
But he carried himself
And he had an aura about him
That made him seem
Like a ducker in doorways
Zepata's arms, mighty bear traps
Or cradling cushions
Zepata's eyes, beacons
Day or night
With gentle kindness and empathetic
Sunburned squint lines
Yet he could brutishly stare down
Poised cougars and had done so
Zepata's way with Irena
Was slow and easy
He could run long distances
Tirelessly on foot
Once was pulled 25 miles
Behind a Federali horse
With a rope around his neck
His hands tied behind him
Before being rescued by the compadres
And then he cut the legs off
The Soldier who dragged him, killed him
With the big knife on his belt
Left him to die slowly in the sun
This helped him understand
Patience and the blessing
Of endurance in all things
It seemed everything that
Happened to Zepata
Everything made him
A better lover in some way
The women before Irena
And Irena more than any
Appreciated what Zepata had given
For his Country's poor and
Exploited
Because they saw his ravaged
body
And tended it lovingly
Zepata was not a handsome man
In the popular standard
Of the day
Nor was he young anymore
He started out young
But then in doing he got un-young
And there was something
All the more lovable about him
His stride, ah yes
Irena secretly coveted
His walk
The way he walked
Something to behold
Purposeful
Bearish
His wide and muscular shoulders
Fit through no portals head-on
Zepata had to turn sideways
To negotiate the doors
Of the peasant dwellings
In which he so often sought
Sustenance and shelter
Always moving from place
To place
Always pursued
So it was something to see
Federali-intimidated
Wary of any visitor
Mexican families in their
Rude huts
Ground by fate like the meal
Between their corn stones
Ground down to near powder
Themselves
They get the word
Prepare a place for Zepata tonight
He is coming
Maybe he stop
- their hero their saviour -
Not with them
But with some other luckier poor
Always with the poor
But Si
Dayo's hooves get louter and
Louter and enter our courtyard
Our cheekens chump awp and town
And lo
Zepata is town from hees great hoe-worse
And before they can run to meet him
Zepata's spurs jing-jing on their wooden porch
And they cheer and cannot wait to embrace the man
Who will be their guest
The man who has been dragged
Through cactus for them
Who has been perforated by Federal bullets
For them is with them
Always but now incarnate
In the flesh
The man nobody can kill
Appears in their doorway, knocks and
Steps through the beads
One shoulder at a time
Takes off his bandoliers wearily
Returns their tax money with golden interest
And receives their tears and joyful supplications
With tenderness and love
He caresses all the children
Everybody around took their best food
And cooked it but it will be
This family tonight
So many scenes like that
Drift through Irena's head
As she rides on with
Zepata's eyes upon her
And she says to Zepata Si
Eet is time for siesta
Si I mus' holt you my lawv
I mus' you know eet
The creek-ets in her saddle bag
Hear this and begin to tune their instruments
And gargle
For after this rest the little bawgs know
It will be the Federal Bank of Mexico
And a daring robbery
[dzd 7-25-98]
……………………………………………….
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