I was down in Tampico
on the way to Puerto Rico
when that green eyed blonde got free.
She was twenty and a killer
and I knew I couldn’t fill her
half as fast as she could empty me.

Her daddy was a preacher
and her mama was a teacher
so it hardly should have come as a surprise
when the hand she dealt
like the way she felt
turned out to be a pack of lies.

When we got to her isle
it took me quite a while
to figure out how far she’d try to go.
Her mariachi ****
drove me out of my wits
and her rhumba hips began to glow.

Now when it’s winter in the tropics
there are no forbidden topics
since there’s nothing that might not be true,
and when the sun goes to bed
then the comical dead
will let you know that their joke is on you.

That’s when I dropped the disguise
so she could look through my eyes
and I told this serpentine dame,
“You know, it sure is dandy
that your gun’s so handy
’cause I think your gonna call my name.”

Then I came out of my shell
like a bat out of hell
and headed straight into the dying sun,
and I called over my shoulder,
“Darling, maybe when you’re older
you’ll know why a man must run.

Now excuse me a while
to deconstruct your smile
while the flying fish cry ‘Olé!’
If you’re as good as you seem,
I won’t escape your dream
and I’ll be back next valentines day.”
 


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Copyr­ig­h­t 2025 by Jon Corelis

joncorelis.com