I have three different friends who have set my poems to music. Here’s another one recorded by Christine Anfossie, who also wrote the music. Thanks, Steve Raschke, for doing the remastering. I’ve published the poem before, but to listen to the musical version, click on the arrow below. If the arrow doesn’t work for you, click on the blue link below it. The picture will vanish, but you’ll hear the song.. Weird. For some reason some browsers won’t let you use the arrow.
You’re being good and I am not.
I broke my diet and got caught.
I’d have resisted if I could,
but chocolate cake just looked so good.
I bought a piece, not a whole cake.
I thought a meal of it I’d make.
But now you feel you must rebut
my obvious need for chocolate.
Will you soon go? It’s getting late,
and there’s this chocolate on my plate.
And though I know it’s impolite,
the chances that I’ll share are slight.
Of your smug lecture I’ve had enough
and now it’s my turn to be tough.
If you must fall from your high throne
and dine on cake, go buy your own!
At 6 .m. the continuing noises of the party across the street awakened me. By 7:30 they seemed to have quietened, but then a new raised voice took their place. Yesterday, someone put their cow in my spare lot beside my house and after a brief period of silence last night, it has once again begun its cries of distress. I’ve called the guard house to ask if someone could check to make sure it is okay. At first they said no, but then I repeated that this is my lot but not my cow. They have said they’ll send a security car.
Ten minutes later, I myself went down to check on the cow. It seemed to be okay. The rope was not tied around its neck and its horns were not entangled in any tree or bush. It was just bawling. And bawling. And bawling. As I took this photo, the security car pulled up and a very large man got out. Was this his cow, I called down from over the wall, as my house is higher up on the mountain than my spare lot. He answered yes, and then I asked if it was okay. He said yes, that it just missed its calf. Could he not take it up the mountain to be with its calf, I asked? No, because it was eating the grass on my lot, he said. Could he not bring the calf down to its mother? How we resolved the matter I do not know, but the noise has stopped and the cow is gone. I do not at all mind if farmers graze their animals on my lot, but the separation of mother and baby ate at my conscience, not to mention being quite an annoyance as the cow brayed night and day.
Now, after a hearty breakfast, my house guests have all departed for La Manzanilla and as I see them off, I hear that the party at the house next to the one that partied all night has started up. These are the sort of problems we face in Mexico. Noisy neighbors and overzealous cows. Happy New Year one and all! I said it once before and will say it again. In Mexico, there is always music!!!