That’s Why I Live in Sorrow

I want to play in a mariachi band. I want to wear a suit with more chrome on it than a ’57 Bel Air. I want to wear a hat that keeps the sun off me, and the horse I’m riding, and anyone walking nearby. I want to saw away at a violin until I get all the way through it. I want to play a guitarron bass big enough to sit in and row away if a hurricane hits. I want to play a trumpet that would bring down the walls of Jericho, even if I didn’t have the airfare to get there. I want to sing songs with corazons scattered all over them.

But mostly, I want some talent, because I can’t keep up with any of these guys, and never could.