Stormtroopers
descended on Baja,
rolled over
the disrepaired highways
under the crescent moon,
both crazier than loons.

Dressed in full battle gear,
our billfolds
were stuffed to the hilt
with pesos,
mouths watered
for some aged tequila
& worms.

We met Rosa & Lupita
outside the cantina,
the drinking place
guarded by ten-year olds
carrying machine guns
covered with duct tape.

In the morning,
we were penniless
with hurt heads
& sore feet,
the amigas were gone.