City of the long weary revolution
city with much bread and no bricks
city of dancing torsos and all night communists
of police who read and kiss on duty
a place where children form conga lines
in liberated palaces
where millions chanted danced
along the breezy hot Malecon
conversations fly zoom to and fro
across the pastel balconies
pink trucks are buses
horses are cars
and children are never shy
even decaying dogs
walk as though they own the street
There’s the scent of piled garbage waiting
but plentiful as advertising
on a New York city bus
are artists doctors scientists
murals for peace and parks
for conversation
peso ice cream or ham on a roll
beautiful bare bellies
bicycle taxi men
sweating and shirtless
and one brave blind woman
who sees so much

Tamara Pearson

From Green Left Weekly, October 12, 2005.
Visit the Green Left Weekly home page.

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