Fucking Barcelona

With COLDNOON now defunct, I'm moving my published work there, here. This appeared February 2018. Enjoy!
[update: it's back up! Here is the link]

Fucking Barcelona

Cool southern breeze off the ocean bringing grey clouds

meaning time to heal our burnt skin

and put on jackets and go drink green tea

in Café Schilling reading La Vanguardia and El País

about the protests against government austerity measures

which are really the government's way of paying

for the mistakes it made with the taxpayers' dinero

or not even mistakes really—the deregulation

it handed the rich and the corporations and the banks

and yet no one seems to care but this handful

of people camping out in the Plaça de Catalunya

while everyone else prefers to watch Barcelona

beat Manchester United on the tele

and celebrate the victory at a Shakira concert

since she's dating one of the players now

and still hasn't committed to marrying me

but even I am bored with protestors and manifesting

because it just doesn't seem to matter

the government doesn't care and the bankers certainly don't

and I fear our lack of fear and anger

but still want to enjoy my life

and you

right now

and what was the word you used to describe your confession

that day months ago when it also rained and we ducked

into Café Schilling and the camarera was sexy

with her tattoos and black tights and attitude

and we had decided that we liked Joan Miró more than Picasso

even though in reality it was not either/or but and/both

and both of us were tired from staying up the night before

listening to jazz and walking home through the medieval streets

because the metro had shut down for the evening

which was fine and everything was quiet

the streets

the seagulls

you

and I was quiet too thinking of that song in 5/4

with the latin bass line and the Sex Shoppe in Madrid

where the girl with the knife scar straight up her chest

danced an extra ten minutes for us because

you told her to go back to college and get the philology degree

and even though you encouraged me to jerk off

I wanted to save it for you for later

and now it's much later in our travels

and I can say I love you en español

and you can tease and deny en catalàn

and I wish we didn't have to go back

to our old lives where we're comfortably normal

and does the Universe take care of us I asked

because that's what a woman tells Javier Bardem in the movie Biutiful

and you said yes but I'm not sure

maybe the Universe only takes care of middle-class rich people

and doesn't give a fuck about the poor

especially but not limited to those in Africa who

just want to survive in the postcolonial system

unless the Universe is in fact doing the best it can

given the circumstances

and that things could be even worse

which seems hard to believe sometimes

but when I think about quitting my job and moving to Barcelona I think ok

at least I wouldn't be selling cheap chinese-made purses on the street

trying to support my family

and in fact I could even envision a spanish woman maybe liking me

and me even talking to her somehow

and us touching our naked bodies to each other

though I'm not sure I'm not sure

maybe the Universe is a little busy right now with more important things

maybe I would just end up in a cheap noisy apartment by myself

with my money running out

and I'd have to return to the states

even more poor than now but dude—you said—

fucking Barcelona!

[image: Javier Bardem from Biutiful]