stop one: the map detects
a spongy islet, and a raconteur
showboating with his micro-
phone dangling around a statue.
stop two: a heavy meekness and a bevy
of artichokes glamorized in steel.
stop three: up the alley
behind the parking garage,
a small stream with coats
available for the gallant,
notebooks too busy busy
describing the moment with
fragile gold pens.
stop four: the tour bus slows,
engine whining like Disneyland,
and out the window
Walt’s artistic location,
where his plasticine
film loops ricocheted through
the Bastille creating a mouse
whose squeaky voice sang
steamboat songs for kids
too young for opera.
First Edition Translation of Teselas by Carmen Crespo X111 César Simón Poetry Prixe 2016 Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospíde
Wow, you capture it perfectly: the ins and outs of tourist traps! Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
You don't need any more comments about your imagery--but I gotta say: DAMN! I love the way you write
Love Tinka
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)