Oh, Cochabamba, how I long to be at thee
Thy majestic streets of dirt, thy English T.V.
Perhaps one day we shall be together
Through the pushing of papers and prints.
But until that day, I wait in La Paz
And dance around with annoying stints.
La Paz, my bride, but not by choice
You change so dramatically
Like Delilah you ask for more and more
But not in the least amicably.
And so I wait with patience and rigor
For the processed arbor to process within
And in that process, protest the quiver
That I may progress to Coch again.
...In other words, there are yet more complications keeping me from going to Cochabamba and getting my visa. The office in Cochabamba has taken on the task of going through everything and they are going to give me a call whenever everything is kosher.
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