zaterdag, juli 01, 2006
The gypsies are like humidity,
clinging to the skin, dripping need.
"Please help feed my baby," she mumbles,
rocking cloth in her arms.
A man steps forward.
"That's no baby!" he exclaims,
ripping the cloth from her arms
to expose a doll.
After two months of dirt, my shoes
will be shined in a park in Madrid
because a man snapped up with a towel
Two months of a half dozen towns'
dirt clogging my stride and time
now, for the cracked teeth smiling
at me si señor,
to shine the shoes.
He turned dirt to shine, muck
to a sublime shade and spat
and shook his skinny elbows
back and forth.