I declined cheese on my Bloody Mary.
i declined a drink from a guy,
he offered everyone at the bar to pay for their drinks.
i lied, i told him i had already paid for mine.
I’m sure he was just being nice,
but he had some crazy tats,
the kind that tell folks like me,
To mind my own fucking business.
he told some guys that share my skin tone,
to go back to their own country.
they were from Idaho.
they only spoke English.
he asked them to pay him back
Symbols on flesh say a lot.
Anyway….
same bar.
Bartender put cheese on my Bloody Mary.
Monterey? Colby? Maybe sharp? I don’t know shit about cheese.
I Just don’t want it in my drink.
i Nibbled at it then took a sip,
my tongue shriveled and cringed.
I chugged the entire drink,
to wash down the taste of chalky textured dairy.
’’Another hatch wave please,
no cheese……
and as many olives as you’re allowed to give me without losing your job,
thanks”
now I’m sipping,
munching on olives.
im people watching,
wondering about the 4 dimensional creatures that watch us,
do they see what we see?
or do they see an abstract painting composed of every move that we make?
12 string guitars in my ears,
“Y Tall VEZZZZZ,
Volaremos hacia al espacioooo”
followed by autotuned choirs,
”if love is the answer, you’re home.”
i lose my self,
in tiny, extra dimensional, pockets of hypotethical reality.
my imagination is just a funhouse of mirrors of regurgitated ideas.
O TAL VEZZZZZ,
the Bloody Mary is doing her job.
i just really feel like cheese makes me lose my train of thought.
And Who knows?
maybe I should’ve accepted that drink,
perhaps even thanked him in Spanish.
maybe creativity is a sickness,
and cheese is the antidote .
maybe,
maybe vodka is poison.
maybe i have a serious olive problem
maybe determinism is real,
And free will is bullshit.
Maybe that’s why i was given this last name.
i should pay my check and go.
-Olvera; “he who dwells around olives.”