And Her....Too Poem by RIC BASTASA

once again you stroll
an old boulevard with no changes
of its landscapes

huge acacia trees
a hundred years old
a memory of the nuns
teaching the catholic religion

the same patches of grass
and same old towers
watching the sea from pirates
of old
kidnappings of maiden
fair and brown

you take the walk
at dusk and you breathe the
smell of the past
relieving the lungs like trees
all roots and no branches or leaves

you remember
this is what you do
always remembering and savoring
the memories
there is a tinge of pain but it is as sweet
as each syllable
in your poem.

the boulevard lights begin
to die and you meet faces
smiling at you
but you go beyond what is there
piercing
the ears of the past
wanting to hear
how it sounded
the pain inflicted
the love disregarded

there is so much talking
so many persons inside you

sigh, you take the walk
again, you move on without looking back
as to who is following who
and whom

the rain falls
and you take shelter on a closed bar
across the road

he is sleeping on a chair
and someone wakes him up
for he is too drunk and lost

you think that you could have been him
you shrug your shoulders
no, it isn't
you call a cab and you take the ride
now you are on your own
self-made
perhaps too selfish but no, no, no.

it is a bright day now
and you look forward to going home
where she is always waiting.