She was a blend, she was a spice.
an additive to a life that might be otherwise bland...neutral. Gray.
Emulsifying the colors and the skies of the Riverwalk, San Antonio (San Anton to singers and poets) is a melting pot of city with backgrounds in a variety of cultures that blend and blur until becoming one unique locale.
But it is inherently Tex-Mex, as the foundational palette. The hint of spice, the hint of peppers, jalapeños and anchillo...the dried variety of the poblano. Rough hewn hands flip tortillas on placas without needing any tongs...sharp knives carve onions and bell peppers. The colors are mostly like Mexico's...red and green...and they mix perfectly atop a street taco or as a side.
She was just like that, this additive color and warm heat emanating from her touch...she contained within her the tiniest of drops that could turn my world into colors.
She was the river that drifted across all the vast desert. She reflected the lights and in quiet pools sometimes even stars.
But there were very few cities when she could walk outside in a cool evening air, the perfume of the foods and cultures drifting, the multi-colored lights and the boats slaloming on the river and let that be somewhat of a mirror...to the tones and spices she added to me even when so very far away.
Like in a place called San Anton.
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