CARTEGENA MANANA

in the late morning
after a cup of fruit and yogurt
I walked the streets
to find a bar
that wasn’t still closed.
most were locked behind steel doors
and others
behind gates which
if you looked through
you could see what was presumably the staff
sleeping on the floor
under tables
or on pathetic foam mattresses.
after much searching
I found an open door and a lone man
about my age
sitting on a stool at the bar
a half drank beer his only companion
“abierto?” I asked.
he looked around for somebody else
to tell me no
so I said, ‘only for beer. solo cerveza. no comida.’
he nodded and slowly got up
went around the back of the bar
and I ordered a Pilsen.
he pointed to the speakers and said, ‘musica?’
and I shrugged and said, ‘I don’t care,’
and took a seat at one of seven
empty tables.
I watched the people go by
started in on the beer
while sweat poured from my forehead
and condensation grew
on the bottle
and I smiled to myself
to all of Colombia
and thought, ‘hell, I could do this
for a long, long time.’