poem of the day 05.27.11

loitering outside restaurante botin

hemingway ended
the sun also rises
at restaurante botin
along the small stretch
of calle de los cuchilleros
jake barnes eating roasted suckling pig
with brett ashley
and wondering what
they were going to do now
with their impotent world

but we can’t get
a reservation for the place
stupido americanos
standing outside the window
with tons of other turistas
from around this small globe
taking pictures of the oldest
restaurant in the world
as the lucky go in and out
with full bellies or anticipation

it is rumored that goya
worked there once as a waiter
while he was searching for his muse

my wife looks at me
and wonders what next
in our own impotent world
she’s so elegant she could be lady brett ashley
but i know that i’m no goddamned jake barnes
because shit like this usually
drives me nuts.

fuck botin, i tell her
as we start heading back up toward calle mayor
there’s this little pizza place
that i found along calle de hortaleza
that’s just itching for some
literary significance

she takes me hand and smiles
her face in the spanish evening
better than the end of any hemingway novel