Postmark Argentina Poem
By Jim Boone
A tango show around the corner;
Buenos Aires, a visit in Wintertime:
Magnificent statues and casas
In Palermo, up the hill, above
The billboard of another brew
The church, washed in white, in
Recoleta, where you confessed
The supposed sins you would
Repeat and embrace again today.
I spied you on a city street
With your back to Grimoldi
And me; tried not to look at
The signs for American food,
Drink and the Marlboro hombre;
Out of place, in my opinion,
Reminders of home that I
Did not want to see, not here.
El Senior, in a derby hat,
Offered directions and a big
Juicy smile, in a street market
Where I looked at antiques and
Interesting people in San Telmo
On a Sunday afternoon, but in
La Boca, in the gold of a rainbow
Building, above a pottery shop,
And artist sculpted into memory
The touch, feel and taste of
A youthful Gem Bone twice.
The sounds and feel of the tango
Were everywhere as I walked
Down de Julio Ave, toward the
Obelisk I had spied from the sky
Over you, Buenos Aires. On the
Last day, it was a thick black
Mane and a street tango that led
Me to be greeted and taken away
To touch opportunity; to deposit
Memories of Argentina por manana.
