Inspired by watching Santana live
The boys mind the bags
While lesbians and straight girls dance
Kiss your boyfriends and keep the women happy
Minor melodies warped in dominance
As two black singers dance under pressure.
You’re too young to sit still, he says
He has two guitars but he doesn’t sing, chewing.
Mrs Santana on the drums with the Afro
Fingers like noodles on guitar
She’s open mouthed, sticks awhirr
While her hair jumps to the roll of the drum.
Smooth and soft, now claps encourage
Unrelenting sticks on canvas
Hard and knocking
Her hair out of fashion
Rhythm with a style of its own.
She’s skinny with diamantes, belted
And gone.
‘Witness the getting together
When things are at their worst
The best happens
Cast off your skin of religion
Be a family
Since Woodstock, we are one
Heal our fears with love, twisted simplicity
And choose between love, or fear, or fire’.
Guitar’s extension of pleasure
Stroke it, slide it and caress
The garden of destiny
With light and love
And sunshine so long.
