Madrid
I fell asleep last night to the echoes of Madrid
Cheers of “¡Vale! ¡Vale!”
Of decade old friends who have eased their way into old age
As a tired body slides into a warm bath
In their accents, I can picture their eyes crinkled with years of laughter
Like candy wrappers left in a pant pocket
I can see their tanned skin polka-dotted with freckles, ripened by the sun
Plush with the richness of jamón serrano and the sweetness of sangria
I feel the kiss of the soft evening air
Brush against my cheeks
As their linen pants sway with the breeze
They are not dancing, but it’s close enough to flamenco for me
In the narrow streets I hear echoes from corners I may never reach
Walking between rust colored terracotta-roofed buildings as they make their wedding vows with shadows on the cobblestone streets
I am walking and I see cigarette smoke reaching up towards wet laundry hung out to dry in the summer heat
The sweet smell of burnt herbs and tobacco pairs well with a beer and some tapas, or so I’ve heard
I didn’t know Madrid would have me writing poetry
It’s hardly poetry—
Just some things I saw as I fell asleep
Sam Carrillo is studying computer science at the SUNY at Buffalo. He serves as the secretary of the University at Buffalo’s Poetry Club, where he devotes himself wholeheartedly to the creative act of writing.