Donostia

The bike race comes
each year to San Sebastian
attacks the famous peak
at Jaizkibel
downtown the old man
pulls his robe around
his ageing body
shivering beneath
the northerly wind
eyes squinting over
a cup of instant coffee

remembering the time
when he saw the pope
the crowds of people
lined up for so many hours
but his mind must slide away
settles now upon
his long dead wife
the tautness of her
youthful flesh as she lay
under him so long ago

like Hemingway he sees
the riders flash past
so boldly colorful
leading him back
to the funeral mourners
and heaps of blossoms
covering the casket
the mysteries flickering
from the tongue of the priest
who buried his wife
who was unable to speak
their native tongue
he shakes his head
as he tosses the dregs
from his cup into the sink.

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