Europe | Spain – Besalu

Europe | Spain – Besalu

Smell the irony of a tormented    
sky when rain crashes

at Café-Bar Sol
and sends up her spirit in scent
rising from limestone slabs
like medieval ghosts.

When el cielo unleashes torrential
tranquility to the earth,
suddenly none of that matters:

the way you apologize like you
don’t mean it,
the few coins left in el bolsillo –
enough for one more café con leche –
a hem coming unstitched
from a favorite skirt.

Small things like big juicy
raindrops, apertures as thumbs,
erase small things.

Try to be the last one
coming in from the storm,
the one to savor bolts –
lightening a spotlight
thunder the last act –
until summer toes, exposed
ache for indoors,
julio becomes deciembre;
a blinking slot machine in the corner of this bar
turns electronic lights into warm fire;
and a photo of the Placa Plat de Sant Pere

is a soon-realized
anticipation.

Beginning as such small elements,
raindrops add up to colorful
puddles, afternoon gusto,
and a final regalo: a tapping,
thumping, them dumping
reminder – on the shoulder,
forehead, then wrists.

Category : Europe | Spain , Uncategorized