Poetry: Paseo, Madrid

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We bounced through the gold satin glow, the desk

Teeming with new arrivals, then spinning

Through the door we tumbled to the plaza

To begin our quest for tapas and wine.

There a bright blue streak of lightning reshaped

The photograph into a negative,

Causing old women to scream in dismay

As the dampened skies unleashed shocking cold

And agitated pools buried our feet.

We took a shot on the next bright corner

Where we fell into step with white clerics

Solemnly leading a quivering line

Of mantillas lowered in devotion,

Thrilled by the appearance of suffering.

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