He’s a fine man, tall, though a Gringo,

but then no ones perfect, it seems.

He improves his Spanish daily,

though words create problems, you’ll see.

 

So many sound rather similar.

The verbs Ser and Estar, confuse.

Practice is the only solution,

though the locals we seem to amuse.

 

He wanted his cojines upholstered.

They clashed with his macho decor.

What with sculptures, bows and arrows

and pistols of various bore.

 

I need my cajones upholstered,

they are worn and some what threadbare.

Please use the selected pattern

and sew a strong zipper in there!

 

Though well used they still seem shapely.

Their texture, I’m told, is OK.

Please tell me how long it will take you

and how much you will want me to pay.

 

“Si senor” said the man with a mustache.

It twitched as he held himself tight.

“Is it cotton or velvet you’re wanting.

I’m more than aware of your plight.

 

He quivered with bottled emotion.

Gringos dan picante a mi vida.

It’s better than Rycea y limon.

Cojones por cojines, la idea!

 

 

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, January, 1997