“The blacks and whites may not love each other but they love the mulatas and the mulatas love them.”*

In Cuba you can’t smoke reefer but you can drink rum anywhere anytime
except at meetings of the Central Committee when Fidel is presiding.

You can’t bring a Cuban woman to your hotel room, but
you can bring as many as you want to your casa particular.*

Havana is a factory that turns out beautiful women of every shade of chocolate and every honey hue.

Sexy girls strut and sway in an unaffected way down busy boulevards
and avenues in tight jeans and minis into a salsa night of fun and play.

Maria holding a tan-colored fan smiles at me sipping my mojito gazing
past the swinging doors of Bar Monserrate to el Parque Central in Old Havana.

Smittened by her smile I want to pierce her precious soul with mine.
I want to kiss her luscious lips and touch her delicate finger tips.
I want to caress and consume her delicious curves and contours.
I want her.

It’s another hot and humid evening in Central Havana when she arrives at my love nest by bici-taxi.

After dining and wining she sits at my table and tells me she is bored with Benny More on the radio singing “Te Quedaras” y “Oh! Vida.”

We move into the shade of the bedroom with the fan rotating above.
We remove our clothes and sink into each other like
long lost lovers together for the first time… her tongue tasting
like fresh papaya, her breasts sweet as ripe mangoes.

“Where is the condom?” she whispers, “I have to go soon, where is the condom? I have to go.

*Cuban street saying
*private home renting rooms