The trees bloom in May
An embarrassment of
purple
Spilling from the
branches
Pooling in the streets
Collecting on parked cars
like vivid snow
Blossoming branches wave
gently
White walls gleam under
red tiles
Work weary tourists
wiggle their toes into damp sand and sigh
The paseos snap and
hum with the crowd
Well dressed
Teeth straight
Limbs attached
Children alive
An embarrassment of
privilege
Around this high pressure
system of good fortune
The clouds of misery
spiral far from view
Blood spills in their streets
Here we walk on flowers
