The symbiotic nature of people and cars in Evora, Portugal: a not so poetic poem

fast traffic

cars merge

cars que

cars stop or don’t for people crossing

slim streets

cars stop for cars approaching head on

cars pass parked cars 

cars park blocking streets 

low curbs

cars park on sidewalks 

slim sidewalks

people stop while people pass

people stop for cars passing 

no sidewalk

people walk in the street

people stop for cars to pass

no one gets angry

lingering too long

Slowing in a fast walking crowd, items in a window  caught my eye. Men’s suits, ties, all the things I was always buying for him. Sixteen years of my buying things for him. 

My fingers recalled the textures, my cheek recalled the crisp collar and fresh shaved scent under mild cologne. But those were the early years when he sought me out before we each left for our day, when he would call just to hear my voice.

But the early didn’t last for him like they did for me. And I found myself alone in a life overwhelming, drowning in the day-to-day of work, school, home…Robert…with no lifeline but the one manifest from sheer will. 

Perhaps I lingered too long, but for me, to love is to give, whole and complete. I doubt I’ll give like that again, buy those things for any man, much less linger. 

from the humid air

Noticing plants in crevices amidst the walled streets of Evora, I’m reminded of Texas where the microscopic flora flourished in barren rock amidst a grain of earth, suckling moisture from the humid air.

When a seed lands, it can choose to root or die. 

from one thing to the other

nothing comes easy

the doing or the waiting 

I sit myself still

purposely;

                  desirous 

of a thing palpable 

so close I can almost taste 

slow and sweet

my apartment in Evora; gets 

sun late into the day,

afternoon, evening; it’s 

too warm to sleep; until 

the wee hours, early morn; the

lull of the oscillating fan; makes

waking slow and sweet