Andalucian Red Wine: part I

I took the midday train

to Spain

and found old women


and dancing

in the

middle of the

cobblestone street

tapping their canes

to the beat

while kids splashed in fountains

to spite the heat.

But then the rains came to Spain

and the drains failed to drain

so the rain turned to a flood.

But just as flood waters

began to rise

and we were getting high

one last time

on the finest wine

you can find

this side of the Pyrenees,

flood waters started to part

like the Red Sea

and a flamenco dancer

outstretched her hand to me,

“Put on your dancing shoes


this is just the opening band”

but she said so in Spanish,

so I didn’t really understand.

I took off my shoes,

handed them to her,

and ran.

But my feet began to hurt,

all banged up

from the cobbles

of Triana

and I realized

maybe she was only trying to flirt

or trying to be nice.

Either way,

I stopped at the next cafe I found

and bought the whole place a round

and sat there barefoot,

drinking Andalucian red wine

until around midnight

then left to grab


but walking along the Guadalquiver

I found under the moonlight

well, it was more sound

than sight…

a shiny Spanish guitar

played by an old man

dressed to the nines.

I asked how he was doing

he said,

“Welcome, you’re just in time”

And just then

that flamenco gal reapeared,

handed me a bottle

and gave my back my shoes,

she said, “relax,

what do you have to lose?”

And I sat there awhile,

while that old man

made love to those guitar strings

and the Spanish dancer

made music

with her feet

and hands

and after

a couple more rounds

she grabbed me,

so I stood up to dance

and she had me in a trance.

See, I didn’t know

the first thing about dancing

much less flamenco

but there I was

in another universe,

on some sort of drug…

We danced until the morning sun

and we had breakfast

when we were done.

then with a sigh,

I told her

that now I had to run,

and she cried.

I had another midday train

to catch

back to Madrid

then who knows where next…

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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