nine million portenios hurry on their way.
As the hour ticks by,
I pour another Sol Azteca
while a Coltrane ballad plays.
Can anyone live half as long
as a Billy Strayhorn song?
My dear friend, Sandy Taylor,
died a week ago today.
He knew that Zen means nothing:
"No whining, no preaching;
what you love most you must give away."
Tonight I’ll burn another Buddha,
and like Sandy, embody the teaching.
Buenos Aires, Summer,2008.