Getting Ready to Leave for Spanish Class, Granada, Nicaragua

POETRY

by Mary Crow

A man in a Nike shirt cleans the pool, water
gurgling from its sides, two bathers waiting.
Beyond the hotel’s open doors, taxis and buses.
Last night at the door our driver shook
my hand to show we are friends and that
he is honest though I doubted him when
he started off in the wrong direction.

Another man sweeps his net through the pool’s
water, cobalt from the tiles, the net shining too,
while the girls who are fixing our breakfast
smile but pass by, bearing plastic bags. Last
night my lover and I exchanged hot words,
and though we never resolved our differences,
he lay his head in my lap just before sleep.

I know it must be my fault. No wonder
I can forgive him. Neither of us will ever
understand the other. The desk clerk looks
bored and tired. I want my breakfast.
How can I study differences between preterite
and imperfect on empty? The morning
isn’t complaining it’s too hot. The pool has
filled with clean water. Unreal blue.