On bloodied feet, I’d
walk the esplanade
‘til dawn
to find Horchata
y a través de
inundación o fuegos
yo correría
It Would Be Xabi Alonso’s Beard
If I could choose one
thing to rub ‘gainst
my face for
all eternity
Alicantino
Bomberos on their Morning Jog
Glistening sunbathed
thighs
They are a pack of gazelles
I covet then pounce.
Centenary Ficus
Smooth roots above ground
Crisscrossing into
little
Cubbyholes for birds
