They were married by the moon
on the Pyramid of the Sun,
best man from the Society of Jaguars,
for bridesmaid a flower boy
who loved her yellow hair,
who thought he spoke English,
words lava reefs cooling
in the Pacific of his Español.
They walked, a sun-specked
collection of curiosities, laughing
along the Avenue of the Dead,
asked the moon, the sun, the stars,
the snarl of the watching Jaguars
for a child
but none came. Broke,
they went back to the States.
He threw the I Ching; the marriage
was annulled. In the neon-long after,
she lost the feel of his deer's eye
startling wild in the dark, the dazzled
pink walls, azure doors, stone streets
and jade palms of Mexico
where her heart was emptied
on the altar of the Sun.
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You can read about the setting of this story, Teotihuacan, Mexico, here.
Image; by Saiko: Terracotta figures from Teotihuacan in the Louvre, via wikimedia commons