Espanoletas (Gaspar Sanz)
This music belongs ground like oil and sweat
Into the narrow adobe walkways
Between Iberian buildings
Standing chapped and exhausted in the sneering sun.
The ocean smells like a deep fry and almost no one
Here believes living is hard.
Out of dark brown rosary beads and Maria’s sad nod
The workers draw another starchy breath.
Over the edge down on the walkway in a slab of shadow
Two boys and a girl sit on the adobe
Playing an ancient game with rocks and sticks.
From the balcony guitar notes fall around them
Like crusty bits of communion wafer.
Their high voices carom down the hollow walkway.
Bob Bartel drove 18-wheelers loaded with hazmat for Liquid Carbonic for over forty-five years. He received a “Million Mile Club” Award from the National Safety Council for driving 1,000,000 miles without an accident, which came with a cash prize and recognition at a national banquet. He listened to classical music as he drove, and now and then wrote poetry about that music. His poems were submitted to Pulsebeat by his son, Dennis Bartel.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 