Under a fiesta sun, senses get drunk,
eyes awash with women in summer dresses,
taste of hot sausage and mustard in the mouth,
feel of its juices on chin,
ears flooded with jazz vibrations.
The percussionist punctuates around and under
undulating bongos, sensuous sax, get-down guitars.
Still caressed in the hand,
an empty beer can
trembles to the timbres,
tingling fingertips to urge,
April 23, 1988
San Antonio, Fiesta