gaucho's is coming!

by brett newell-woods

(Upon the opening of my godfather’s opulent and gaudy South-American steakhouse ‘Gaucho’s Grill’…)

He pressed a button to spark
            Up the neon sign to let fly
                                    On radio waves the message
            “Gaucho’s is coming!
            Grand opening for the grandest joint in town!”
And then with desperado wit
            Tore his jeans in three places
                                    To fall in with the young girls
            But say no,
                                    Absolutely not
He’s an older man,
                        Can barely be understood when he speaks
                                    Like he’s still blooming
            In East Jerusalem
                        Young, dark and suave in his father’s proud Mercedes
“D” for “Deutschland” white decal on the bumper
                        But he’s not that man anymore,
                                    Not the glory of Old Jerusalem
Al-Aqsa’s never been so far away
            But he guesses it’s in keeping with its namesake.
                        The riffles seem quieter now
And the triggers behind them stiffer
                                    And the voices
            Are hoarser when seldom as frozen hell
They drip through cables into
                        His new countrymen’s ears.
                                                His country is shrinking.
And he shrinks with it…
            But under the neon sign his prayer is still sneaking
                        In swaying cables
And pools of rolling air
                        For Gaucho’s.
                                                            He’s coming!