darkness blew a final whistle

maybe he knew

about the benefits of blowing

in the Mexican wind

after a riotous party at the Cucaracha Bar

in San Miguel de Allende.

afterwards, in a nearby village,

he was a later arrival for a wedding

party,

but he gathered himself to toast the groom and bride

with hands polished by years of hard living,

using the free booze to gain

even more perspective on life, life, life!

he yelled to the open sky.

showering himself with peyote and purpose,

he walked to the edge

of the tiny town

and found a train station poorly kept

and ill-lit

where a ticket could be had for nothing,

his favorite price. 

he bumped into a slow burro in that cool mountain air

before wandering off the side of the tracks,

stopping to sleep.

he imagined himself merely pretending to rest,

while dreaming of driving a manic bus across

the faint heartbeat of America.

and then darkness blew a final whistle.