Wild Gods of Mexico

Finally, we meet. A bookstore. I don’t know what he looks like. I’m a bit nervous. Like excavating demons, this going back to Mexico shit. I was fairly well running for my life when I last left the goddamned place. I see a man enter. A Mexican man accompanying him. The white guy’s hair is long, brown with a tint of gray but not so much. Button-up 501 Levi’s jeans, well worn. Sandals, no socks. He walks on the balls of his feet, like an excited kid off to have some fun. He sees me. Our eyes engage. Blue eyes,