Tequila

Tequila,
The grand dame of trouble
Not enough of it will
Burst your bubble
And too much of it
Is never enough.
Its gold or silver color
Doesn’t look so tough
But just the right amount
Especially by the shot
And your actions following
Won’t soon be forgot.
You don’t need a chaser,
Just a wedge of lime
And a lick of salt to alter
The movement of Time.
Great for margaritas
Or as a sunrise;
However you take it
Induces otherworldly highs.
Sauza, Patron, Herra Dura,
Take your pick,
All can turn even the most docile
Into an everloving prick.
Nonetheless, there remains
Quite an allure
And the attraction to this dame
Is all too pure.
Finish another bottle,
Another agave worm ingested,
Awake in the morn’
To find your consciousness molested.
At that point, this dame you will
Again swear off.
But, alas, when next she beckons,
Toward her you’ll take off,
And before her you’ll bow
Then giddily approach
Like a teenage kid
Toward his deflowering coach.


10.04.97
Denver-San Diego flight