Latino love found me
in a bustling NYC party accidently

Latino love took me
to be a shaman, for sure

my black bag bulging
from magical rainbows,

serpents from a Hindu Heaven,
skull of an abducted female Yeti,

magic mushrooms,
Yarchagumba and other Himalayan aphrodisiacs

to raise even
a stodgy stone from its Amazon sleep.

Latino love adored
my pagan adulation of her long brown legs,

golden limbed goddess
inside her spacious body’s wide sanctuary

Latino love wished to
make love to me all night long,

translating my works
except love poems into Spanish

Latino love wanted
to rent my brown body, turn it

into a sacred sutra,
a sufi song or a shatoosh shawl

to wrap around her shoulders
all the time in all NYU parties

Latino love said
she understood sanguine silence of my snow peaks

Latino love
wanted some action right away,

flowers of wild passions wet
from her impassioned breaths

“Can you read my future,” she asked,
spreading her palms after the waves had receded,

“Maybe there’s a Juju
in the spidery maze of these heavenly alleys.”

Latino love
wanted to be a wife I already had.