The long way back

Oh I’m sooooo thirsty,

My tongue stuck like crazy glue,

And people say,

“welcome to Mexico, asshole”.

How did i get here, i don’t know.

But for sure, there was some mistake.

There i was, doing the breifing,

With Pompeo and Bolton,

They were talking about nucular arsenals,

And preemptive strikes, yawn.

And the guy came with the hamburgers,

And next thing i know,

I’m here.

Where is here?

If only I could speak Spanish.

I try to call the guys,

That called me asshole,

But they left,

All i have around me are just Mexicans,

And somehow they don’t understand.

What’s not to understand?!

Can’t they recognise?

I feel cool at the top of my head,

And feel with my fingers,

The rug is missing.

How could i possibly attract respect, without it?

I stand up,

brush the sand off of the suit.

A young Mexican is holding the hairpiece,

Which has washed up by the waves,

He looks at me amused,

“Is this yours?” He asks, almost no accent.

“Yes. Give it back.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Please give it back”

“Fine, but i want a job,

maybe secretary of state or something”

The kid demands.

Nogatiating..

“Tell you what, I’ll give you a dollar”

“A dollar, senior, this is Mexico,

Not some shithole...now..job or i take this and give it to my father, tell him you tried to touch me..he really loves you already,

Since NAFTA...”

I dig in my pocket and find nothing.

Nothing.

I guess I’ll have to give him a cabinet post.

“Fine, give me the rug..I mean tupee and a bottle of water and you got a deal. I can do secretary of education. How about it?"

The kid runs away ,

For a moment i fear the deal is off,

But the kid comes back with a bottle .

Everything is going to be all right...