Random writing week 2: The Toreador

Juan Belmonte
Dragooned tobbacco from hand rolled
Fat man fingers
He swallowed and gulped and sat partywise
During moonlight hours he would be seen under red light
With vultures on his arms, two or three at a time
He fought bulls
With gallantry and grace
Sitting close
Breath meeting and dusty knees
Red flash like the red night
Toro! Toro! Toro!
Toreador.
Writer friend and walking myth
Juan Belmonte
Name sounds like rolling crescendo of notes
Fat man fingers
75 years
With a weakened clockworker
But with his cape still crimson
He went to town on his horse
He got his two vultures
He sipped, gulped, chugged, engulfed
He went out like burning home
Taking the tenets with him
The vulture pecking at him
Warmed stomach
And a heart heaved with ending