I left Matagalpa (read a lot about this city in the mountains of Nicaragua in the archives here) a year ago today. Something about it clings. I miss much. Miss my Fridays in the bar, my beer, my notebook …
The Bar
I am having my usual
2 litres in a Victoria Frost cooler
while the 80s playlist
plays down,
Lionel Ritchie, Richard Marx
and all those other sellouts
then
Cheap Trick booms
and
I’m happy
bouncing around the bar
everything is in its place,
this most democratic town square
– a bar
of cowboys, lovers, students and mayors
- a bar
where we all watch
each other
the whole afternoon
do our invisible stripetease
taking off the clothing of
civilization as we
become a little more closer
to each other and
to who we really all are.
Say you … say me ….
October 21st, 2020. Picoteo, Matagalpa, Nicaragua.
The Bar