It comforts me in this tempestuous world that the altar we erected to your lips that crazed night on the wall in San Telmo has earned respect from the toughest crowd: sloganists and graffiti artists and paid political posterers have carefully skirted your lips, awed by their succulence. The building behind crumbles; it’s lovely railings and balconies would collapse — I think — under even a butterfly’s weight. Neglect has wrestled ornaments and color from those walls. Posters of the political passions of the moment are wheat-pasted one upon the other, a crusty sandwich of forgotten saviors.
But your lips remain, unblemished and conjuring. Those whimsical protrusions that ripple your surface have outlived all the lesser passions. Late-night walkers, chasing their skittish dreams, instead find you.
Sign up to get The Sunday Morning Muse delivered by email each week: https://www.kevincarrelfooter.com/signup/
Beautiful and thoughtful as always. Your weekly musings are the highlight of my Sunday mornings.
Joe: Thank you so much for your kind words. They made MY Sunday morning. Abrazos! Kevin
This perfectly captures what I loved most about San Telmo! Gorgeous words.
Amy, many thanks. I know San Telmo loves you back.
Thanks Kevin, it comforts me finding your Sunday words in my mailbox! 🙂