Ivette

At the door of a bowling alley
a pickled bacán,
remembering his past
that the Chinese woman left him,
amidst the cane fumes
they return to his memory
those pages of history
that his heart engraved.

Bulín that I no longer see you,
a cot that I no longer dust,
mine that of pure esquillo
with another bacán left;
you were the charm
of the whole crowd
and that for some stupid thing
you got attached to a I don't know what...

What will that other one give you
that your old man didn't give you!
Don't you remember that I stole
so that the bullion wouldn't be missing?
Don't you remember when in jail
I used to send you in little notebooks
those cute little verses
born from the heart?

Don't you remember that with me
you wore the first hat
and that leather belt
that I took from another girl?
Didn't I bring you for your saint
a pair of bute brunettes
that one night to a farabute
I took from a farabute.
And with them a pair of boots
with suede reeds
and a papusa skirt
made of crepe silk?

Don't you remember
that lettuce cream
that even the last wart
from your face?
And those pink powders
that enhanced your colors...
Remembering his loves
the poor bacán cried...