Printed from WriteWords -


by  James Graham

Posted: Saturday, April 30, 2005
Word Count: 72


It was cool
in the mountains

but we came down for a day
into the breathless heat
of Fuengirola, city of the plain,

where a man lied to us
about timeshares and would not give up
until the third and loudest No.

But then, in the dusty
suburban train to Malaga
instead of muzak for guitar

it was Beethoven -
peasants merrymaking
after the storm. Cool

peasants, merrymaking
after the storm.