poem of the day 06.02.11

spanish sunsets and american sunrises

standing in plaza mayor
10:30 p.m.
the sky still streaked
with hazes of blue
i realize that the sun never seems
to set in spain
but is always up
beckoning
calling you for more joy
and more drink
more food on metal counters
along the cava baja

standing in the plaza mayor
at 10:30 p.m.
this is the first time that
i’ve ever liked the sun

peering out of my brooklyn window
5:15 a.m.
the sky periwinkle and foreboding
a worker’s sky
a taxable sky
a monday through friday sky
an american sky for sure
sky like a warden
leading me toward the noose
the gallows
a sky that has never tasted
ice cold cerveza
outside
the cerveceria alemana

or drank rioja
with the ghost of garcia lorca

peering out of my brooklyn window
at 5:15 a.m.
i know why i never liked the sun
in the first place.