CONK

you can’t see us sitting on the red plastic chairs at Picus Cockteleria

because we left

the empty table

with no evidence of our presence

gone was her grilled conch pounded flat and tender

conk

conk

who’s there

conk

conk who?

conk anybody over the head who tries to steal a bite of her tasty sea snail

how do you say tikin xic I wanted to know

teek-en-sheek said the gold-toothed waiter

snapper?

grouper?

who cares?

yucatán tradition marinated in vibrant achiote paste made from crushed annatto seeds

giving it iconic bright orange-red hue

if only the smooth pink polished conch shell remained

I could join the two-piece house band

blow big notes like a maya warrior wearing an ancient feathered headdress

instead we danced in the sand on the way to the street

a table of four drunken women applauded when we walked by

conk

conk

who’s there