She Sells Goat's Cheese, Not My Favorite

she sells goat's cheese, not my favorite plying the beach ramada to ramada at times she sits with me lowering the basket from her head her clothes are worn, patched i roll eggs, beans, chorizo into a tortilla hand it away, she always accepts then throwing her arm over the chair she begins the badinage i understand little sometimes others, far too much of humanities plight i too throw my arm over the chair rattle slowly in my aspiring Spanish making verbal notes of words similar in English and Spanish she teaches verbs, vernacular we share more than just language if you would stand afar you would think us old friends lost in the chatter of complaints news, reminiscing, and aren't we the same expressions, gestures friends in small talk sharing a similar nature delivering the points quite well it is a beautiful day we are happy to be alive sharing breakfast, languages she returns to her vending soon Isabella will be by with my freshly baked banana bread Jorge will drop off the tamales sometime this afternoon and i will have gone to the bank for money, Maria's children are in need of school clothes i return to the waves rolling in watching the pelicans riding the uplift provided by the surf this is what i need, not poetry readings life is a continuous poetry affair that moves thru existence on wings of opportunity to grasp it cherish its every moment neuropathways accompanying Death in little smiles, no one hears San Blas 91