When you are too stoned to remember your friends’s names,
you just start calling them ‘tio’.
And while you’re at it, why not call everybody that way.
So ‘tio’ It was the lean tanned youngster called me,
him wearing pants, white plastic gloves and a white piece of cotton arab style on his head ,
seeing me cleaning up a sack of garbage in front of my car,
left by weekenders to be ravaged by the dogs.
He asked me if he could help and if it was my garbage,
the answers being yes and no, he granted me a few thank you’s and an invitiation for just a little bit of cerveza,
… which was already gone, thirsty as they were from preparing the chiringuito for the season
on a hot Spring day with very little wind.