Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Termite Inspector

His name was Pablo, termite inspector
by trade, punctual and meticulous
with flashlight in hand checking out
the logical places where droppings

might be found pointing out openings
where the pests might get in, serious
about his business until he saw the picture
on the easel. He asked, "Who is the artist?"

I told him it was me, he sighed and said,
“The girls are beautiful, I can almost hear 
the music they’re dancing to.”

I asked him if he had sisters who danced
he smiled and said, “No, it was me.”

He placed his left hand behind his back
tapped out a few steps then held his right arm up
tapped out a few more. He laughed out loud
said his mother made him do it and he loved it.

He liked guiding the girls while they twirled

in their brightly colored dresses
he wore a white
 shirt and straw sombrero
took in the smell of their perfume, listened to their pounding feet
in rhythm with the guitar's beat to a Mexican love song...
those were some of the happiest moments of his life. 

I asked him why he didn’t dance anymore
he touched his belly that protruded over his belt,
“My wife’s cooking has slowed me down
and I have children to support so I put away
my dancing clothes and hunt for termites instead.”

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