Inspired by watching Santana live

The boys mind the bags

While lesbians and straight girls dance

Kiss your boyfriends and keep the women happy

Minor melodies warped in dominance

As two black singers dance under pressure.

 

You’re too young to sit still, he says

He has two guitars but he doesn’t sing, chewing.

Mrs Santana on the drums with the Afro

Fingers like noodles on guitar

She’s open mouthed, sticks awhirr

While her hair jumps to the roll of the drum.

 

Smooth and soft, now claps encourage

Unrelenting sticks on canvas

Hard and knocking

Her hair out of fashion

Rhythm with a style of its own.

 

She’s skinny with diamantes, belted

And gone.

‘Witness the getting together

When things are at their worst

The best happens

Cast off your skin of religion

Be a family

Since Woodstock, we are one

Heal our fears with love, twisted simplicity

And choose between love, or fear, or fire’.

 

Guitar’s extension of pleasure

Stroke it, slide it and caress

The garden of destiny

With light and love

And sunshine so long.