Agus dei

A moment in Madrid

 

Pedro

Rudolfo

Maria

 

Jesuitical monk

Prayer gown\

Cassock

 

I stand in the sunshine

And appreciate

every

ray

As it falls onto my skin

 

Sparrows are listening

And

An old man drops

A wrapper

 

Dyed black hair

Scraped backwards,

Glistening

In the artificial light

 

Truncheons

Old handguns,

Worn handles.

 

Disfigured man – melted skin,

Sits begging on street corner

Outside

Shop,

Where people

Fascinated by phones

Caress blank screens

And the machines

Are

Tethered by flexi-cable to temperamental alarms.

 

The ambulance sirens

Day and

Night

sound

arrival and departure;

 

A friendly waiter gestures to our choice

Double-checking

Disbelieving the request.

 

Wine is drunk by the glass

Then the bottle

Then

Bota

 

The music is a blend

Of gypsy,

flamenco

classical

accordion

 

I catch the eye

Of

A woman.

She rushes to request money;

I gesture to my empty pockets

And she acknowledges the hollowness of my action.

 

The siren

Reminds me of the Bourne movies

As Jason

Travels across Europe

Evading police, army and secret service.

 

Something wintry about the memory

That seems

Appropriate for now.

 

In every direction

People are talking

Some smiling

Others are nodding in earnest.

 

I am silent

Locked-out.

 

In a time before

The electronic revolution

Before

The car

The wireless

The electric spark

When speed of horse

Was the fastest you could travel,

Everything was different;

The humdrum

Was

Inevitable,

 

What disconcerted then?