Balconies across the street from my hotel in Sevilla feature a woven palm frond and potted plants.
The Poetry Thursday prompt is to write about a topic we avoid. I don´t like relating unflattering things about my fellow countrymen. But often I see travelers behaving as though they are in their home countries, without regard or respect for local culture. On such occasions, I have been known to pretend I don´t speak English, cringing at the thoughtless behaviour of fellow English-speakers.
The overweight middle-aged American
in his tight shorts and hat and Rolex watch
shouts out in the small mercado
that sells exquisite hand-painted fans.
"It closes in 15 minutes so we need to go!
Anyway this is ´el junko;´
I thought you said we were going to a good store!"
His cultured wife frowns in embarrassment and dismay.
The proprietor pretends she doesn´t hear "el ruidoso,"*
managing a small tight smile while turning her attention
to tidying the impressive display of fans
that flamenco dancers fling;
romantic fans behind which senoritas flirt
and senoras keep the heat at bay
breathtaking fans which evoke sighs and dreams -
but not for the bull in a china shop.
*the noisy one