Lola

Author’s Note: Written at the Iowa Young Writer’s Studio with the prompt of creating rhythm. Sampled from the song “Lola” by The Kinks.

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Mariachi Marc, a white man, skin seduced by 

the bright sun, a yellow tan.

Skin around the eyes produced 

crinkles, wrinkles, wilting periwinkles,

crunching into the iris, black as tar.

In his arms a guitar, six strings and a wooden

box, he strums.

His fingers, old and gray, graze the tightly strung

strings as his head begins to sway. 

His voice with radio static, an adolescent’s tune

muted by his fedora, feather, macaroni.

Lola, 

The glasses sat at the brim of his Rudolph nose and his crumpled up

skin, shattered, but not broken,

L-O-L-A, Lola, 

Small white hairs creeped up his rosy, bare cheeks, sprinkles on top of the

cherry.

lo lo lo lo Lola,

A woman in the crowd he serenades, 

in solitude, his voice.

Where their eyes meet, their hearts beat.

lo lo lo lo Lola.