Met Cuba in New York
the year 1970
she was charcoal black
but since she came from Cuba
and spoke English with a funny accent
no one mentioned it.
I had just paid off a ship
had a little money,
a second hand car
and planned traveling around the USA.
Asked her to come along
she said yes
and off we went.
She was a great mate
we bantered and laughed a lot at night
we went to roadside bars drank beer
and slept it off in motels.
Cuba was of the opinion
that we shouldn’t make love before we knew each other better
and I reluctantly agreed
by then I had fallen in love
and heroically could wait.
Our cozy world crashed in Huston
when she disappeared with a cowgirl
coming back two days late
carrying a Stetson hat with a provocative feather stuck in its band,
so that was it I had fallen in love with a dyke.
But for the bloody hat in the back seat
I might have forgotten the whole thing
but it kept reminding me
and my jealousy was a festering sore in a young man’s pride.
Our bantering had an edge to it
I think she wanted us to have a fight
but my fierce temper held me back.
In New Orleans I sold the car and join a ship bound for Japan;
I just had to get away
never told Cuba
left her in a motel room with a hundred dollar bill
pinned to the pillow on my side of the bed.