Saguaros stood
like spiny-sentinels
as I sped along the Camino,
alone,
top down.
Warm winds &
tequila-breath
burned my shot-eyes
when I first spotted
the thumbing Lupita,
way south of Ensenada
on good 'ole 1.
Her graceful
toothy-smile
under her full lips
seemed gracious
as I pulled up
alongside her,
kicked the door open.

She hopped in
& we catapulted
with her hair streaming &
brown-skin shining
in the falling sun.
We hit high speeds
smiling
as we continued
south, driving
into the coming night.

Twinkling-stars
& static-filled
La Bamba-tunes
kept us company.
We discussed
sacred-mysteries
in broken languages,
later, counted
each others toes,
rubbed noses
in my bedroll.

In the morning,
she was gone
left me a note
& the ruffled rose
she had pinned
in her raven-black hair.

As I drove off
in a dreamy-state,
somewhat disappointed,
a spiraling one,
a lone black bird
trailed behind me,
I'm sure it was her.

Soon, she disappeared
from my rear view memory,
but never out of my mind.