streets paved with dirt that Hemingway once traversed
one rainy windy afternoon in old havana
typical tropical temperatures
humidity hung in the air like an enemy of the people
many dark eyed women with long black hair
floral skirts wrapped around their cinnamon churro legs
got hungry so I wanted to make some banana bread
the old world recipe
visited a few bodegas —- not one banana to be found
classic buildings though that could speak volumes
and teach an architectural class at universidad de la habana
old cars - oldsmobiles pontiacs buicks real vintage
pastel shades of metal floating by
found el morro castle and guanabacoa harbor though
at the harbor, sat on an old cracked concrete wall
che guevera might have sat on sixty years ago
bare feet dangling above liquid murkiness
the water lapping ambitionlessly against it
looking at old fishing boats manned by old men
with gray beards and crooked backs
smoking cigarettes barely wrapped
traipsed to the art museum among the markets
sad shades of mostly depressing brown paintings
painted by artists high on sugar cane stimulation
went down to the coffee shop
to have some artistic stimulation of my own
a nice cuban cigar
a muy delicioso taza de café
