the Sierra Nevada sits in a
The earth is a dust whom,
like me, craves rain.
Orange trees disguise dilapidation
while the woman cause salivation;
Escape the heat by the shade of
roses or the slum of a cave,
here you suck conversation like
water to a cactus.
Red wine plasters but cracks,
tiles are needed in the moist months of Porto, but I am in Spain.
So let me pick my own olives,
I crave sweat of my own accord.
Let us converse with our eyes,
It is too hot to learn English or maybe
you are just lazy and drunk?
I thought I saw Africa today,
but perhaps that was only your haze.