Castellana

I pull up a bench and sit for a while
Underneath a straw hat

Flurries of blossom are shading the path
Spearmint green

The drainman lifts a cover
With his wrought-iron crook
And kneels to peer inside

He sees me watching
And we share the guilt

Traffic flows south-north on the asphalt
Hot determined metal
Hunting for a space to pass

My mind photographs the woman
In the big blue Porsche

For a second, I’m her and she is me

Sitting on a bench
Underneath a straw hat

And the blossom is blowing in the wind