You reek of smoke and heartbreak.

There is a forest fire raging in your gaze
that I cannot extinguish with mine.

It can be doused, perhaps—
or smothered
with more eyes and more eyes and more eyes—
but my water pail is filled with Patrón.
I cannot quell it alone.

The thirst in your wildfire eyes
is drying me to leather;
jerky for the vultures.

Maybe they
can quench it.

I am alcohol and lame steak.
You are smoke
and heartbreak.