i plod on south
down to mexico
my tongue feels like my boot leather:
worn out
on my calloused feet
oh!, mexico...
land of mayan culture
magic brujos
and peyote
i see the sign
bottles and cans
and i am saved
perchance, by those spirit guides
as i set my tattered ass
on the tattered bar stool
levis
cowboy boots
a thirst for life
that never goes away
as i sip
that cold amber
a beer
in a bottle
not a can
a bottle
i love
the sign that says:
bottles and cans
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