Dogs here live in the streets, the filthier the happier.
They neither obey nor have behavioral issues, unlike ours.
I received a Quechuan blessing in a Colonial church
and felt the hooves of Spanish horses trampling my home.
Followed by police, a gypsy woman stormed
the Plaza de Armas, stabbing the city trees with a shiv.
In Arequipa, a 500 year old frozen girl, clubbed
in the skull and offered to the gods on Mount Ampato.
Eduardo handed me a machete though I was only
joking. He taught me to make it zing through bamboo.
Deep in Peruvian jungles they grow wealthy on cocaine
and peddle the sacred coca leaf to sick tourists.
Looking back at Lima I flipped over my handlebars
and bit the sand of the Pacific. Pachamama.
by Ryan Dowling