Paul Davis in Barcelona Part 2A Poem by kentuck14PAUL DAVIS IN BARCELONA Part 2 Paul and poetaster went south in late evening towards the beckoning of Mediterranean light, the train pulling into seedy Marseilles at the beginning of another October day. The lady clerk at the hotel spoke no English (maybe), and the boys knew no French (for sure); checking in went on until hell finally gave up and froze over. Later, Paul lay on a rumpled bed while smoking a cigarette like in French movies, the moody protagonist being totally cool. Stressed from grueling foreign relations with the hotel clerk, Paul just needed a dose of calming nicotine. Marseilles proved to be no more affable than Paris. Angry Arabs shouted hostile words in both French and Arabic as the boys walked the cobbled, narrow street to the old light-infused harbor where elderly men sat fishing off a stone pier. A feeling of desolation filled the air. Paul and poetaster in their dismay later boarded a train heading south along the coast to the Catalonia capital of Barcelona in General Franco’s fascist Spain. © 2019 kentuck14Reviews
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Added on August 7, 2019Last Updated on August 7, 2019 Authorkentuck14Lexington, KYAboutStarted reading and writing poetry while in the Army many years ago. I picked up a book of poems by Leonard Cohen in a bookshop on Monterrey CA's Fisherman's Wharf and went on from there. I've had a n.. more..Writing
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