LA CONCHA
The bank robber is a gentleman
raising a towel for his love to dress.
I wake some way down seashell beach
while Rick still snores behind me.
Bags rolled tight, we enter a bar,
slump on stools in a line, all four
staring at our reflections in the long
mirror behind the steel counter.
Jesus spreads arms wide over the bay
and we are down to our last pesetas
in this city of bombs and needles,
nervous police and general madness
but we possess a library of maxims:
distillations of road experience.
Reassure each other continuously
that something always turns up.
John Short's poetry is inspired by his years travelling in
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