Ah, Mexico

I went to Mexico this weekend. I feel like I played a hundred games of backgammon on the beach and danced my feet numb at La Fonda. The paint of my lungs is peeling from cigarettes and coughing from so much laughter. My stomach is full of rice, beans and tequila. I worked on my book like the workweek would kill me. I saw the world in sunglasses and let the wind have a grin so sharp that it would've cut up my hands if I was a praying man.

Also, I need to stop writing posts like this. It's getting, like, super-uber cliche.

But it's like this every time in Mexico and it's been like this for years. Rex and I talked about it during an evening smoke break as we overlooked waves rolling in on an empty beach while a live band played for folks downing real margaritas a stairway up.

We just keep recapturing our youth without even trying. We just keep getting dealt royal flushes south of the border. We just spend our lives never wanting to go home.

Also, they sell puppies at the border now and I can't get over thinking that I'm going to make one hell of an impulse purchase when I get sick of cheese tamales and ice cream. Goddamn.

I'll love you forever, or as long as you let me, Mexico.