He lowered his straw hat and stared at the tourists passing by.
Idiots, he thought, for
Holding an umbrella under the sun
Ridiculous.
He was thinking to go to the beach
Where the sand could be burning hot
From the heat
Thinking of that, he lay lazily still by the street corner
Under the cypress
Watching a sleeping dog the whole afternoon
Barcelona is mysterious at night
When tourists went home
He could finally get to the beach
And have his margarita with tapas
The ghosts of Gaudi's houses went out to play
They watched the city with care
In the park, cooling in the night winds,
Waiting for tomorrow's sun.