Maria Maria

The waves are endless,  rushing in to the dunes . They are moody and sleepy or screaming with anger,  anarchistic fury fighting destiny.   The sounds of the beach are constant.,   the boys whistle and  yell  “ay mami ”  but it doesn’t bother me.

 

When I am in Mexico

my name is Maria.

My hair is as black as

the Grammostola   spider,

it shines like the crystals of Playa Norte.

At night we disappear into the barrios,

lose ourselves to the funk of  Bossa,

sway to the sound of  carioca.

You whisper in my ear

 linda Maria