ON THE ESPLANADE

There's a passion
between us tonight
the August heat
from the whole dog day
has abated on the hammock
behind the primrose bushes
of midsummer's open spaces
sweat enters us
and I'm in a four-letter word
as the sprinkler turns on
the love bird feathers
near the fountains
of the Esplanade
telling my partner
I despise the phrase
"genuine leather"
who speaks in a quiet twilight
with a Catalan accent,
it all seems compelling
just to be mutely held
under electric city lanterns
glittering like stacks of stars
wondering if the memory
of these revolutionary stone statues
we walk by in hot weather
in our stammering adolescence
will fulfill promises
of these wonderful pink petals
on greensward tall grass
we hand to one another
passing the wispy esplanade
for another day.