Retiro

I see old men bent forward on benches, spitting out seeds from crumpled mouths, leaning on wooden sticks. 

I see people lying in uncut grass: some of them read, some of them sunbathe - one man sleeps, wheezing with each deep breath. 

I see young boys waving sticks, playfully fighting, and couples sitting on stone steps, whispering about something excitedly.  

I see men plucking strings, their fingers plastered, their heads bowed, and women cradling blankets that will not stop crying.  

I see a girl scuffing her shoes on the dusty floor; her parents don't notice - her parents don't care: shoes are not what trouble them.