Dark intruding eyes wander over sand and sea
at sunset a blanket of small stones seashells
scattered bleached bones of birds and big fish
Penguins in white starched shirts
waddle like slap-stick comics
in long lines up and down the desolate beach
on sparkling specks of sunlight
washed ashore by ebbing waves of day

The Patagonian sky
at dusk
a curdled cup of blood
Magnus the wandering Jew
drives our tiny Toyota
like a daring fool
on miles of rutted pot-holed
dirt and gravel roads
leading to La Estancia Monte Dinero
illuminated by a lonesome full moon
in stark relief to dark barren hills
looming behind the ranch house

where we are welcomed by a brunette
in tight jeans and sleeveless sweater
who serves carne asada
and rich red wine
to Spanish speaking blondes
sitting at the banquet table
before the great hearth

Her soft southern smile
warms our chilled bodies
better than burning logs
in the huge fireplace
After sopa y vino
we resume our risky ride
on the open road
into wet windswept
Patagonian night

Paz tomas