pueblo – Page 20 – don't confuse the narrator

omnibus edition

More thoughts and words on buses. Starting with my own:

Estación de autobuses

The bus belches, wheezes, shifts
on its haunches and sighs: tired
of waiting for the passengers. They
kick their heels, scuff gravel, grind
cigarette stubs into the ground: tired
of waiting for the bus. The driver
toma su café; se toma
su tiempo.

But, as Flanders and Swann sang, “We like to drive in conveys, we’re most gregarious,” so to make this a proper omnibus edition it seems appropriate to add a few more links.
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bluebirds

I’ve always said I don’t really like birds, but for some reason there are lots of them in my poetry.

We’re fortunate to have pine forest, olive groves, the river and other habitats here that provide homes for a variety of species. The most impressive ones that actually come into the garden include hoopoes and jays, the occasional woodpecker, and one of my favourites, the rabilargo – literally ‘long-tail’ – the azure-winged magpie. Sadly, although these flock in huge numbers – I swear I counted 50 last Tuesday – I’ve never managed to get any kind of adequate picture.
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untitled vignette

In the greystone shadow
of the old jail, three men share
smokes and anecdotes. Two
wear drab and polished black,
the third raises his cigarette
between cupped hands.
Metal glints at his wrists.

different perspectives

Since my current poetical effort is being concentrated on a couple of applications for courses and polishing some old pieces for competition entries, I thought I’d post this, which I wrote years ago when I was first trying to get to grips with sonnets.

Myopia

I’ve lost my glasses, without which I’m blind
as any clichéd pipistrelle. I’ve searched
in all the places that I knew they weren’t –
and I was right: they haven’t dropped behind
the tumble dryer, underneath the bed,
or in the trash; they aren’t perched on my head.
I’ve been through all the coats I never wear,
I even looked in John’s new jacket. There
I found a letter whose calligraphy
I didn’t know. Despite the cataracts,
my sight’s still good enough for me to read
a woman’s signature. So now, the fact
I’ve lost my specs no longer bothers me:
I’m focusing on other things, you see.

There was another reason I thought of that piece in particular – not, I’m glad to say, because I have any reason to suspect my partner of being unfaithful, but because I’ve recently had cause to visit the optician.
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hoy por ti

The first time I heard the phrase Hoy por ti; mañana por mí I was amazed at the no-nonsense approach to helping others that it seemed to encapsulate.

The closest we seem to come to it in English is “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours”, though I don’t think that’s quite the same, as the English idiom implies a real one-to-one reciprocity.
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