The bullet train ran
toward the bright sun
My eyes rove over
the landscape
blurring
muted greens into chalk
sandstone
peaking to flat low valleys
Valencia- Te Naranja sol
My gaze drops
to my tapping fingers
ending on
“Simplemente Madrid”
someone whispers it
behind
silent as a field mouse
The train eases into the station
pausing
peppered salt hair
“Usted es”
“Te amo”
“Esperada”
He waits
My eyes lower to peek through fringe
La poesía está…
Suavemente
Te.
I turn
and walk through the doors.
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 