Vamos España

Evening.

There’s heat in the sun as it banks across the square.
They said it wouldn’t be long.

Things all fall into place.
No row of bells or cherries.
No clatter of cash into the tray.
Just the soft satisfaction of things falling into place.

Someone drops a chain of linked flowers on the crossing.
A woman in her middle years stoops and picks them up, 
smiling to herself.
No row of bells or cherries.
No clatter of cash.

I walk up to Calle de Genova from my class.
The bus pulls in jammed and I take my turn.

“Buenas tardes!”
“Buenas tardes!"

Swiping my abono on the front of the machine.

Standing only.
Stout old ladies, gamely swinging from handrails, etc.

We’ve done all that.  

I feel subsumed but happy.
One among the many 
heading home in the contaminación and sun.
Nothing special.

The Selección play Portugal tomorrow.

Beers and pizza
and some good company.

Vamos España!

Venga!

****

Buenas tardes! = Good evening (though it's probably afternoon)

abono = travelcard (Oystercard for Londoners)

contaminación = like it sounds - traffic pollution here (murderous)

Selección = national football team (in this instance)

Vamos = Let's go!

Venga! = (where to start?) Come on! or just a parting greeting, if that makes sense. Bonding word.  Who knows?