Largesse

The bus powers between parked cars
Bumper to bumper, they’re dusted with Saharan sand

Pavements busy with diners
Parties, families, groups of friends

It’s lunchtime

The sun is high, aircon working hard
Someone rings the bell

We swing into Narvaez and stop

The door opens

A terraza, upmarket
Marisquería
People beneath the canopy, standing

Waiters in white tunics, watching
Heavy man in loose white shirt
Leans and shakes a hand

Man in Panama, mirrored shades
Steel candyfloss hair
Moves easily to the table’s head
Gesturing the others to sit

Fussing flunkeys
Starched shirts
Well-cut frocks, prints
Take their places

The heavy man goes inside
Pointing, shouting
Waiters take their stations

On the terazza
The scene is set
Act 1: distribute the bread

The door bangs shut
I’m glad to be on the bus