Stretching smooth to the sea
Slide silently faster
Between her and me
The distant peaks move parallax slow
My vision confused by the grimy window
But now the sun shines on the huerta pueblos
After we’ve left the grey suburbs and polígonos
Passing pre-war churches and Art-Deco stations,
Palm trees and pine trees and weird rock formations.
The sky remains blue, full of clouds like wool
And I love everything in the land of the bull.
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