Pocket Fiction

In the Midst

Published December 11, 2018 in Barbosa - 0 Comments


At the top of the tower,
there’s not much activity.
They come up to water the trees
When they need to.
But it’s been raining for months.
Barbosa had a bed roll and a blanket.
Olive oil, bread, cheese and salami.
The wine was thick and red,
Like the earth.
It tasted like the rich dirt,
The work, the time, the living.
Not without irony.
The cheese was aged and Parmesan,
The bread was an ancient grain,
Alive before Christ,
The salami was made from pigs
That lived in the hills,
Medieval, among the olives
Black and bitter.
He had 12 Euros to his name.
But who cares?
I’m free and they don’t know where to find me.
MR Stuik 2018

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