July 2017,
37 Calle Vela Blanca,
San Jose,
España,
street view,
A young couple
with old connections,
breaking, repaired,
frustrated, in pain,
pieced together,
wrapped in summer
on Calle Vela Blanca,
White Candle Street,
Spanish heat
burnt sentiment
dessicated tears
blistered hearts
and dry vacant lots
near that house,
with its pergola draped
in bougainvilla
inside its garden wall,
outside a small white gate,
that red 50 gallon drum
and stunted cypresses
down from
Calle Cala Higuera,
Fig Cove Street with
its green garbage skip,
a century plant,
where above
the final bloom
balanced on
power lines,
and sitting atop
a power pole
that pair of doves
gazing quietly,
at the mystery
of a long embrace,
after
he said she said
after
his helping hand
assisted her,
in rising from
her grief,
where, she sat
head in hands
after
he stood
outside her
comfort zone,
gesturing
as he and she
give startled looks
to the singular parade
of google’s passing,
that white, red, green,
yellow, blue, clown car,
with its black robot camera
silently recording
a passion play,
and over there,
yards away, up
on Calle Cala Higuera,
a man wearing
his green shirt
and red shorts, offers
momentary glances,
not caring,
what he sees
the dejected pose,
the frustrated gestures,
well staged
for Google’s camera,
backward forward,
a final separation,
a reconciliation,
a vulnerable moment,
a most
vulnerable moment,
on Google earth,
for an entire planet.
a virtual corner
turned, up
from C. Notario,
or down
from C. Cala Higuera,
but take a last look,
July 2017 is gone,
it’s October 2018,
or 2020
that couple, gone,
those doves gone,
a century plant gone,
that ephemera
gone, a summer,
gone.
