Paseo Maritimi (Majorca Poem)

The woman in the hotel pool swam in steady lengths,
Mindless of the Mediterranean,
The yellow sun on harbor walls,
The dance of docked white yachts.

Mindless as well of my gin and tonic,
Or Robert Graves, buried in the thick crust of Deya.
Her blond hair combed the turquoise water.

Beyond the high tips of palm trees,
Palma de Malorca rushed by,
While she kept pace in her wet world.

Swimmers know nothing but their breath,
The pull of muscles, coolness of flesh.
She did not know us, watching her slight body,
Tan limbs framed in red.

I moved my drink with the care given antiques,
Wanting to hold the yellowness of light
Caught in the glass,
Wanting to hold this last image
Of the island, the woman, and the sea.

Then she rose from the water with a rush,
Spraying the terrace deck,
The sunset in the Paseo Maritimo.
This tourist postcard of Spain.