Saturday, August 19, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Goodbye, Madrid
Goodbye, Madrid
1
Goodbye-
Old, restored building with columns
soaring to blue skys
capped with domes and horses and bells
that toll for me
2
Goodbye-
Young girls, quick teens, sweet teens
with smooth faces like a baby's bottom
with small abs and jeweled navels above jeans clinging
tightly to bone hips and moist places
attired like strippers from red-light districts
but smiles like cinnamon, charm so innocent
you want to buy them ice cream and send them home to mother
Goodbye-
Old men and women, goodby, gracious, loving couple,
holding hands while strolling narrowded, crowded streets
watchful as she shifts her shawl
smiling between taps from his cane.
3
Goodbye-
Liana Cafe, goodbye cafe owner
on narrow street off Plaza Mayor
wearing smudged apron, clear eyes and broad smile
Jesting that my espano is worse than "your Mr. Bush"
Slapping my shoulder into a narrow street, saying
"Gracia! Gracias! Gracias por su visita!"
Goodbye-
Banker, short, balding Spaniard with deep-set eyes who
with bank closed, unlocked the front door
to apologize to this Black man, to say
"Come back next morning. I assist you."
(Won't nobody happen in US!).
4
Goodbye, Madrid
Good friends with deep-set eyes and open hearts
My home awaits a tired but sated traveler
with strolling feet swollen but low spirits lifted
eyes brightened, heart soothed
Adios!
Monday, August 14, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Festive Madrid!
Hola!
Last night I went to a Spanish Festival. And it was all in the streets! Narrow streets with lights strung from pole to pole. Colorful Latino flags draped over balconies. Streets packed to the maximum with residents and tourists alike.
Tourists like me walked leisurely along narrow streets, wonderfully overwhelmed by the colors, the smells of tortillas, fresh-made candies and the sounds of congas and horns being played at a high pitch, bumping into each other. No one seemed to mind.
One Spaniard bumped into another (presumably an old friend). They hugged and danced, spinning each other around, laughing as they turned. A few of their friends joined in.
A few of the men dancers wore black costumes like matadors. The women dancers wore long and colorful dresses that flowed as they raised their arms with deliberate sensuality but turned quickly.
After walking for what seemed like miles, I sat down at a restaurant-bar and washed down a grilled salmon with two glasses of Spanish wine. A perfect ending to a perfect evening.
Mac