Los Tres Amigos

 LOS TRES AMIGOS

Two Mexican men in the shady park

Drinking cervesas.

"Hey, caballero," one shouts to me

As I walk past. "Where's your horse?"

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It's because of my hat.

More archaeologist on a dig

Than Clint Eastwood, but close enough.

"Back at the hacienda," I reply.

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They laugh.

"Hey, caballero, come sit."

The day is hot and sweaty. I'm tired.

So I sit.

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"You want a cervesa?"

They're drinking beer

Out of soda bottles with the tops sliced off,

Then filled with Dos Equis.

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"No, gracias, amigo," I say.

"Here," the other one says,

Pulling a bottle of 100% apple juice

Out of an ice chest.

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So cold I sip ice splinters

When I open it. "Gracias," I say.

We sit. We drink. We talk in the shade.

Los tres amigos.