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Estralita dances
she sat alone at a table in the smoky cantina. her eyes &
her tits flirted with all of us as we watched from the bar,
we seven fortune hunters.
but six weeks ago, we were twelve who set out for the hills.
we were sick with gold fever, & we would pillage & rape the
ground, the streams that would deny us of our treasure. the
merciless sun & heat beat us like a whipmaster, & five of
our legion perished under the strain. we buried them & prayed
words from Chulo’s ragged bible over their graves.
the nuggets we found were small, brilliant when we washed
away the mud, but there were many. we survivors would be
rich men.
thoughts of gold & the misery of the hunt fled from our heads
as we crumbled under the spell of Estralita’s sultry beauty. we
tossed her a nugget, hoping she would remove her peasant
blouse & dance for us. as gold fire sparkled in her eyes, she
mounted the table, & swayed like a heathen mirage.
her bare feet moved without friction across her stage. her
‘danza’ was a completely new mystery: no woman had ever
danced before. the burning in our bellies would surely
incinerate us.
what we desperate men might do to this passion flower made
me ashamed to be a human, but proud to follow my erect
penis to the fiery pit of this glorified woman.
as we suffered for gold, men would suffer for a beautiful woman,
a woman named Estralita.
but tonight, she would suffer for us…
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