Ajenjo
I once set fire to my shoe
serving absinthe to impress a whore
who said she had three blind children
so I never thought of syphilis
but dripped water on a sugar cube.
My hand shook as green liquor
soaked a teaspoon of cocaine.
Flame jumped to a newspaper
headlining Mining Disaster, 50 Dead
who might have died older of syphilis.
Stamping the burning news
on the azure tiles, my shoe ignited
and the whore cried, Dance!
clapping hands, hoisting her skirt,
and I never thought of syphilis.
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