China Mandarina
Memories
of Barceloneta
I.
I keep finding orange peels on black pavement
In one Yankee town after another
Exotic color in a New England winter.
On these cold days, I imagine china mandarina
A sweet taste alive on the tongue.
I pedal fast to stay warm and dream of tropical sun
II.
If you have a bicycle and an afternoon, you can find La Boca
Take the road that heads back under the interstate
Up the hot pavement hill
Past lizards that scurry among puddles and plastics bags
Past the multicolored graveyard, the rooster
Strutting, the man that stands on the corner
Turn at the gasolinera and ride
Through a neighborhood of regatón and dust
Out past the last boxy house
To where the air
smells of earth and rain
Sky meets cane field in a luscious kiss
Of blue and green
Or gray and green
Or hot ragged sun
Pedal up the hill (hear the waves) and over down gravel
Loose in the corner
Behind the beach, ride in the shade of the trees, and sooner
or later
You’ll feel sand in the chain
Tires slip in the thick of it
When the road runs out, it is time
To take off your shoes and walk, ankles in and out of the ocean
The sand will turn black under your feet and you’ll find
The sound of the wind
The moment where the river meets the sea
No comments:
Post a Comment