Mi barrio

Algunos saludos, cálidos

or if I’m wearing

chanclas, miradas

de desdén

I know many

by sight, every day

more by name.

Rafa, Marian, Lina,

Paco, el hombre de

la tiendecita, or su hija también

Esta mañana, as

I walked past the

peña, I heard

a voice like a spring fiddle,

“¡Buenos días Rafa!

¡Buenos días Luis!

¡Buenos días Lola y Luz!”

and on and on

It was a young neighbor with a playful morning song.

And on the other sidewalk

of the cobblestone street

leaning on a 1960s bar, built into a 1760s wall

a woman smoked and said

hi to me, and a man sat

in an aluminum chair

at an aluminum table and beckoned

Marco over, to pet his head.

“Tiene la misma cara que

mi gata,” he said, risueño.