Poem : The Shadow Of Bela Lugosi

The bells

Of the church tower

Ring out

Across the town’s square

Echoing down dead-end alleyways

And the overhangs of stone buildings

The morning fog is disappearing

Evaporating before my eyes

From the reflective rays of ocean sunlight

As I walk

I see a homeless man lying on a bench

Lighting one cigarette off another

Yet

The one he is lighting isn’t much longer

Than the one he’s discarding

Freebees off the ground I suppose

Then a man calls out to me

“You’re too young to be walking with a cane.”

I smiled and said, “I have bad hips.”

That it hurts to walk sometimes

So my cane was a necessity

He then offered me a ride in his bike taxi

I guess

I looked

Like the perfect demographic for his business

I declined and kept

Walking and seeing

Seeing and walking

Pigeons flock on St. George Street

Waiting for the next breadcrumb to fall

While

Squirrels feast on an old ice-cream cone

Sitting on a wrought iron trashcan

Their bellies stretched wide from good living 

Finally

I stop and take refuge from the sun

From the crowds

In an Old Spanish Military Hospital

Built over a cemetery

Inside

I snap a photo of a hand carved crucifix

Six-foot tall

Hanging over a bed

Made for the ones who had Yellow Fever   

Christ’s shadow

From the open doorway of the room

Looked like Bela Lugosi

At least this is what the tour guide pointed out

I had to agree

As I sat down to rest my bones

In a place where they once took care of the living

While walking over the dead