goodnight, sleeptight.
barcelona was grey.
humid & tired the tourists walked by me
there camera's clicked, guides whispered
and again each began the pretentious drawl about an architectural piece they clearly knew nothing about.
languages changed and lingered on blasphemous tongues
as they quoted the art of Guadi, Dali & famous Spanish writers
Cultural mosquitos sucking out Europe's very soul
Leaving a romantic guesture
or maybe a postcard or snap shot slowly cutting souls replacing them with superficiality.
crinckled and shrivelled
he waits each day
for his fortune to be no longed crippled
burnt, brown hands
and stained white boat lines
work together like a percussion band
harmonious and soft with the breath of the sea
tradition stuck in cultured freedom
and yet the fisherman still waits for his wife to return after the 1940s occupation
written 2009, symi, greek island.
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