REMASTERED MEMORIES OF SPAIN
La Rambla Catalunya, Barcelona
“The one street in the world I didn’t want to end.”
Frederico García Lorca
After leaving the unfinished
Sagrada Família, cornerstone set
in 1882, Patti and I stop for tapas
along La Rambla Catalunya, rojo y
blanco sangria on the small table,
groups of pretty girls, Picasso-slender
line drawings, strolling by, angular
bodies in motion, laughing,
vaping, vamping, so different
from the muscular arrogant boys
following behind, all pecs and penises,
shoulders bumping, young mastiffs
off leash smirking as they pass
two refined 50-ish women pausing
at a shop window, faces frozen
in reflection, unaware they are
observed by an older man I am
watching, alone at a nearby table,
napkin at his jowls, paunch in his lap,
fork speared with the sweet pescado
suspended in space near his parted
lips, memory of wild ocean currents
in the pink flesh, barbed hook piercing
his cheek, tail flopping on the deck,
a sip of wine to wash it all down.
—SL, Port Royal, SC, February 2024
I'm late with my comment, as usual. I get the hesitation blues, for no reason I can see; I always find your poems -- and as often, your introductions, moving & provoking. Remastering is a beautiful idea. What time does & doesn't do.
Oh wow, these are getting really interesting! The picture you paint is so crystal clear. And has a nice tension and excitement that also feels Refreshing. I really enjoy your work so much,
Such a beautiful, generous, all-encompassing smile on Patti.
Captured in a moment in time, oblivious of the future.
And here is one for you by a Nicaraguan guy, Ruben Dario:
Juventud, divino tesoro
Ya te vas para no volver
Cuando quiero llorar no lloro
Y a veces lloro sin querer.
Mihai
Oh yes, Barcelona. And then, Madrid. And then,...