Losing Candy Gamez
“If tomorrow never comes,
why do Mexicans depend so much upon it?”
I'm making love to Candy Gamez,
can’t be more specific
other than it happened in Lincoln, Nebraska.
The snow had her name on it,
the wind had her name on it,
so did the abandoned railroad tracks,
the waitresses at the Russian Inn envied us,
and then the springtime came
with all its glory,
the snow turned into water,
and trickled down the city drains.
I called out Candy’s name
all over town, went as far as Omaha,
but she was gone, oh, she was gone,
and forty years later
my heart still pines for her-----
in a Mexican sort of pain
which, as you know, has no equal.