In My Mind

There is a Mexican mariachi in my mind. He is a Dio de los Muertos skeleton, holding a guitar. His chords echo in my head, stirring up nostalgic ghosts. His words are intricately woven ribbons of color. There is laughter, crying, family. All the memories of my mariachi-Mexico past. This little skeleton has given them life in my mind. I see his teeth chatter, his phantom tongue creating hauntingly beautiful notes. His guitar strings vibrate as his white fingers pluck them, moving the air with reverbating sounds of memory. Now, enter the dancers. Their petite bones rattling in time with their shoes on the ground. Color, tapping, singing ribbons, chords of memory. A euphoria of surreal past. And it is all real, true, and mine.