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Spanish bar poets
and all of them are listening
I do not understand
no one understands me here
but I have a beer and also a head full of my delusions - poems
we have something in common
so, in that noise
in latin tangle, we might say, we have a common language
of a soul
and those bloody things in our mouths,
vocal cords
in us grew differently
maybe it’s the climate
surely we would understand each other
Well, in the silence it would be better
maybe in English
possibly after the spots on tables
perhaps by circles from empty cups
bottles and shots full of souls
slowly filling up
for us
poets
the poem ended? ..
