Cheap Tea

The  old man leaving the bar,
shrugging on his jacket
like a well worn friend,
I’ve seen him before,
although he looks a little thinner
than I remember.
A wave of grey hair
the Santana moustache
his three piece suit,
distinguished
in this run down neighbourhood.

A woman
sitting outside, sipping beer
straight from the bottle,
says to him
“eh! Que tal?”
“You look thinner”

I suppose
we all get thinner
as we all get on,
thinner and thinner
till we’re almost transparent
and all our histories
can be seen,
lingering behind us
like a line of dreams.

On the corner,
a gypsy is playing Spanish music
on a Yamaha keyboard,
I don’t know
if he’s really playing
or just moving his hands
He asks for coins
from everyone sitting around
eating tapas, so we don’t get too thin.

and

I think how
all our lives are just as weak
as my cup of cheap tea.