Madrid, Please Stop

Tonight,   
I walk with you through the same streets   
we traveled in poems many years before.   
I stumble wide-eyed in the same rain water   
     collecting and stagnating in the crevices   
          of the cracked 18th century streets.   
  
Tonight,   
I see your worn wrinkled body   
     flickering with the fading light   
          as the blood from the Franco era   
               drips into the dirty puddles.   
  
The flourescent streetlights lights   
     shine upon the festering dog s**t   
          piling up faster than the houseless   
  
and the concrete cesspools of castellano   
antagonize my curt, vulgar soul.   
  
  
     
Madrid,   
tonight we walk like old lovers   
for the last time.