Letter to Marcos, Chiapas, Mexico

Dear Marcos,

Horseman, shaman, writer, teacher, spirit of the hills.

Did you sleep well last night, the sleep of the just, or did

you sleep with one eye on the target?

Hey there! How do?

What did you have for dinner, did it suffice?

Revenge is my favourite word at the moment, it used to be enchanted.

I'm smoking, again, not to worry, it quietens the angry mind.

Wild thing, wanderer confined.

 Sex and money, distractions aren't they?

No matter, time is a man-made construct.

Are you still writing poetry? Don't forget to breathe.

Yours, siempre.