Las Ramblas

Searching for evidence on another continent,
You come across two elderly men sitting on
A concrete bench in the middle of a loud
Promenade; it is noisy, thousands of people
Are talking all at once, laughter, festooned tourists,
Street performers brilliantly painted in uncanny poses,
Gold, silver! Vendors hawking green maps,
Women in red dresses, singing,
Lean boys smoking against the brown streetlamps.

You watch two elderly men, spotted with age,
Tune a plastic boombox, the black dial
Swiveling across years, swimming in gray static,
Until they find it, yellow music of big band jazz
Sweeps into your ears, the elephant horns bellowing;
They swing their thin arms, stomp their feet
And dance in their seats, oblivious
Of the blue sea crashing around them,
Smiling as they must have in younger years.

8 thoughts on “Las Ramblas

  1. it didn’t come out quite right but i guess i’ll get it properly one of these days. btw, your poem, ‘the night before,’ is really good. just rolling around in my head right now.

  2. it didn’t come out quite right but i guess i’ll get it properly one of these days. btw, your poem, ‘the night before,’ is really good. just rolling around in my head right now.

  3. maybe “sweet” is rather imprecise. how about “nice”?? at any rate, it’s a great mental image.

    and thanks for the steady encouragement, I always appreciate it.

  4. maybe “sweet” is rather imprecise. how about “nice”?? at any rate, it’s a great mental image.

    and thanks for the steady encouragement, I always appreciate it.

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