Lisboa

Lisboa

The man from Goa and his perfectly aligned postcards
With stories of guns and flowers coming out of it
A bloody rose
A pumped fist up in the air
Memoirs of the revolution
For freedom
Freedom
Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom
Smallest streets
Al fama
Oh
Al fama
Yellow dimed lights
Celebrations
Fado
Soudade
A word that cannot be translated into English
Nostalgia
A melancholic feeling for an absent something or someone
A knowledge that that something or someone may never return
Or the love that remains once someone has gone
Of Who she was before she loved him
Love and loss
A new quill in the voices of fado
I was brought back in time in those streets of al fama
With a comedian
Running
He said you must follow your heart
It is destiny
Fate
We are a poor people
He said the Portugese are depressive type
Melancholy
The artist said
The nymph
Used to wait at the docs
Instead she waits at the mink
I said I called him dad
He said you don't need protection
Lisbon
You rotate me
And see me within
I am free to wear floral jeans
As I scratch my mosquito bites
And hear the cheers of university students echoing off the tiled walls
Artists painting walls
Drawing
Making
Talking
Smiling
Warm and soulful
Lisboa
You have reached me