Tuesday in Valor

another one from my travels in Spain a few years back.

This Sangria is too sweet,

too thick, too much this soon

into a Tuesday afternoon.

I sit in a red plastic chair,

this cafe nearly empty.

a white work van across the street,

yellow ladder on the top rack, bright,

against a white stucco wall.

all the roofs are terracotta tile,

or grey gravel with weeds,

flat Moroccan style.

I read this place

was built by Moors,

later driven out by Christian Spain,

un-trusted for their Arab blood,

so long ago. so little changed.

ice sweat drips

down my half-empty glass

where chunks of apple and strawberry bob,

like drunken life rafts, sinking

in their fizzy sweetened sea,

slow and bright

into a Tuesday afternoon.