THE GREAT WAY
Mothers and fathers
at pace with whatever
sounds pollute their ears
push their tiny offspring
in squeaky buggies.
Tiny socks caress the ankles
of short pants,
strolling and eye piercing,
creatine digestion,
step counters,
time consuming
merchants of paraphernalia
on the sunny side.
I ride the last few drags
from a faded Winston,
cranberry hopes
knifing through
yesterday’s plans.
Corner dwellers.
Tamed and idle reminders.
The present need:
to be somewhere.
Watch,
like a cat from a storefront window.
Curiosity is not an acquired trait,
it is a reflex.
A flying empty pack of Winstons
graces the rubbish heap
sacrificing itself
in rays from St. Malo’s
crispy sun.
The cracks are jagged teeth
and long tongued.
To passing trainers, pumps
or fancy boots.
The puddles always shine with
last night’s bile.
Racing downwind from
the coffee aroma
an umbrella holds up
a centenarian.
(Francisco Bravo Cabrera)
CHEERS
JaZzArt en València 
Me ha emocionado
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Me alegro que te haya gustado. Gracias.
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Lovely poem!
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Thank you!
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A striking and thoughtful piece, Brother
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Thank you Brother!
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Lots of sensory perceptions.
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Thank you!
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Interesting
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Thank you so much!
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Wow, so many thoughts and pictures that are so vivid in those short, well-thought-out lines. Gorgeous work.
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Thank you!
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It really is a striking piece. You are most welcome.
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Slices of life. Loved it, Francisco!
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Thank you so much Mitch! I am so glad the poem resonated with you. All the best!
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