Blasphemy
The goddess of fun, la diosa de divertida, is in her mid 30s. Her skin is the color of a cashew split down the middle. She is tall but not so tall. She is a hair on the hairy side, but no one cares. While certainly a shapely woman, there is nothing petite about her. The goddess stands all powerful in a size eleven shoe. Her shoulders are square, her back muscles like steel cables, her legs thick, her waist slim, her breasts firm, her buttocks proportioned. She is a viper among the vines -- you dare not take your eyes off her when she moves.
After a while you notice her eyebrows are tattoed, and so is the inside of her wrist. There's a red flower that blooms eternal on her calf. At all times, even at rest, her face is expressive, anchored by eyes that are big and round and dark and set back, dangerous yet enchanting. Reacting to some comment she finds ridiculous, this diety will roll them like a lunatic and you roll right along with them, mesmorized, and an instant later they are completely sober again. But you have already been thrown from the ride. Then she flashes that foxy grin. It strikes as sudden as lightning, accompanied by bold laughter, thunderous and unnerving, the cackling of a sorceress who accidentally cast a giddiness spell upon herself and gave up trying to undo it. And yet she comes across as stable, authentic, dependable.
This superwoman could power the entire country with her boundless energy. There is always a song on her lips, usually a Mexican ballad. She knows almost every lyric to almost every tune in her endless playlist. So possessed by her own spirit, she dances without realizing, her body against yours, sending electrons through you for hours on end.
Her stamina is the stuff of legend. And she may even be indestructible, the battle scars on her arms like pitiful scratches on the side of a tank. You cannot stay up longer into the night and you will not wake up earlier. Ten times out of nine, she will drink you under the table, whether it is a chilled red wine or whiskey on the rocks (because nothing else will do).
Her followers are drawn in by her appearance and entertained by her magnificence, but what causes their conversion are her deeds . The ultimate man pleaser, la diosa will leave no surface uncleaned, no manly desire unsatisfied -- she even puts the toilet seat up so that you won't have to.
Now you are hooked.
The goddess is like the mother managing two children competing for her attention, for she equally loves the wearing of clothes and the shedding of them. On the balcony she is a silhouette against a backdrop of hazy yellow streetlight. She is without bra and without panties in a one piece, skin tight pull over skirt. The amulet around her neck wards off any mosquitoes. From where I am sitting several feet away, the blackness between her legs is sending out a low frequency vibration. My senses are heightened and I can make out three very distinct smells: vodka, salty sweat, and impending rain on a tropical wind.
Fast forward and we have ascended the temple steps. I whisper a request in her ear and she answers my prayer. I leave a sacrificial stain on the altar of cotton sheets, then sleep. I awake and the goddess is watching.
The next morning I pay my tithes in the form of US dollars and la diosa returns to her heavenly abode where wine flows freely and the music never stops.
Amen.
After a while you notice her eyebrows are tattoed, and so is the inside of her wrist. There's a red flower that blooms eternal on her calf. At all times, even at rest, her face is expressive, anchored by eyes that are big and round and dark and set back, dangerous yet enchanting. Reacting to some comment she finds ridiculous, this diety will roll them like a lunatic and you roll right along with them, mesmorized, and an instant later they are completely sober again. But you have already been thrown from the ride. Then she flashes that foxy grin. It strikes as sudden as lightning, accompanied by bold laughter, thunderous and unnerving, the cackling of a sorceress who accidentally cast a giddiness spell upon herself and gave up trying to undo it. And yet she comes across as stable, authentic, dependable.
This superwoman could power the entire country with her boundless energy. There is always a song on her lips, usually a Mexican ballad. She knows almost every lyric to almost every tune in her endless playlist. So possessed by her own spirit, she dances without realizing, her body against yours, sending electrons through you for hours on end.
Her stamina is the stuff of legend. And she may even be indestructible, the battle scars on her arms like pitiful scratches on the side of a tank. You cannot stay up longer into the night and you will not wake up earlier. Ten times out of nine, she will drink you under the table, whether it is a chilled red wine or whiskey on the rocks (because nothing else will do).
Her followers are drawn in by her appearance and entertained by her magnificence, but what causes their conversion are her deeds . The ultimate man pleaser, la diosa will leave no surface uncleaned, no manly desire unsatisfied -- she even puts the toilet seat up so that you won't have to.
Now you are hooked.
The goddess is like the mother managing two children competing for her attention, for she equally loves the wearing of clothes and the shedding of them. On the balcony she is a silhouette against a backdrop of hazy yellow streetlight. She is without bra and without panties in a one piece, skin tight pull over skirt. The amulet around her neck wards off any mosquitoes. From where I am sitting several feet away, the blackness between her legs is sending out a low frequency vibration. My senses are heightened and I can make out three very distinct smells: vodka, salty sweat, and impending rain on a tropical wind.
Fast forward and we have ascended the temple steps. I whisper a request in her ear and she answers my prayer. I leave a sacrificial stain on the altar of cotton sheets, then sleep. I awake and the goddess is watching.
The next morning I pay my tithes in the form of US dollars and la diosa returns to her heavenly abode where wine flows freely and the music never stops.
Amen.
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