A butterfly settled on the salty lip
The sun behind it boomed
I found myself in a flight path
The margaritas bounced
and for what seemed like days
the tables flitted this way and that
the tables flitted this way and that
The mariachi bowed
and I bought them drinks
The sun behind them boomed
I am a sentimental drunk
She twirled a paper parasol between her lips
I brushed salt from them with mine
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