Noche de San Juan

It's midnight, they put out the bonfire
that the kids lit because it's the Night of San Juan.
There's a little ember left, flickering low
that the winds of the past, with pain, will cover.
It's as cold as hell to be out in the open
a guard curses loudly at the station.
In the distance a dog barks and another answers far away
like a patrol passing from one button to another.

The lights of a bar
shine bright
and two lovebirds
walk off embracing.
I walk alone
on the brick sidewalk
with a tango on my lips,
a nagging thought in my head,
the nagging thought that forces me
to embrace my loneliness.

A guy from Abasto takes the last tram
and heads downtown to run the show.
On the journey he dreams
of mechanical problems,
oriental parrots, a very noble and faithful woman.
To battle among thugs, crooks, and bullies
to join the caravan of coffee snobs.
To tell old stories of brave hearts
or love in a letter, if a woman is at stake.