Sevilla

It smells of capitalism and church,

Drowned in incense, perfume and dirt.

Sevilla – it could be eaten off a spoon!

Sugar and cinnamon dusting the toon.

From the moon, it’s a confectionary shop

Swirls of cream squooshed on top

Shoes are shined and terraces tiled

Glancing through, Arab style.

And who knew? In the outskirts -

Communities of Senegalese,

Sipping tea and hibiscus juice

Picking at their roots

From large plates laced with love.

I saw a new city within a city,

And interlaced with ugly, the pretty.

Men on the bus

Cursing blue, clutching at

bottles of booze.

And Cádiz province -

So far away

Yet full of grace

In comparison.

Swap a curse

for a friendly hand

Huff out the bitterness

With the sand.