So the old story begins...

She was the shy girl from the country
he was the cultured man from the city
yet, their hands were warm
and rivers of blood splatted at their first touch.

One lazy day they took a train to nowhere.
They saw a land bursting with high burnt corn stalks
the looked at each other,
and without knowing why, they laughed.

Most of the time there was a silent current
between them, untamed and electrifying.

They trekked off the tracks and into the
unknown they rashed.

Searching for a paradise of their own.


And so the old story unfolds...

They rushed by an unbolted warm land
they didn't know its name or its bounds.

Found a way through the dense maze
grasped hands and followed no trail
and their terse steps plunged
in the dormant midday air.

as they reached a sleepy village--
men in loud sombreros sleeping in the sun
a rustic tavern with red tiles stood aflame
as if scorched by the burning sun.

Sadly, the old story ends...

He wanted wine. She wanted his caress

Wine made him bold.
His jaw set on the tip of the glass and drank
as if transfigured by the lure of a python snake .

and his gaze didn't take refuge on the creases
of her breasts.

trembled at the nearness of her skin.

She gulped down the ravenous red wine
hoping to find him in the witchy shades
of bliss and abyss.

While drowning in the illusion
that someday
she would be the only one
to satisfy his thirst.