The Crossroads

I beg your pardon!
That’s a conversation
that never happened
Like Dylan
at the crossroads
selling his soul to the devil
for a musical bargain

When I made parole
I toreadored out your door
like a conquistador
to the Catalonia I adore
after laying low
from a low blow
on the Costa Brava
with Lalochezia
the Señorita from Dysania
Her gentle whispering
in my bleeding ear . . .
“Ahora volver al piso, Señor!”
As I lay dreaming
on her unswept floor
Whilst Robert Frost
got lost in translation
somewhere south
of Barcelona
with a pocket full of those
perscription pills less taken

I beg your pardon!
I never promised you
a rose garden
diamond rings
or any of those things
Only ever
a new morning
upon angel’s wings
That’s a conversation
that never happened
Only in the bullring
of your imagination
Your question
my dear sweet friend
is blowin’ in the wind

~ David B. Redpath © 2018 – 2020

Artwork: ‘On the Road’
~ by David B. Redpath © 2018

Linda Redpath © 2020

14 thoughts on “The Crossroads”

  1. I read the whole poem with a monotonous tempo in my mind. God, did I enjoy the read! 🙂
    Your painting is beautiful David…the candles that are far melt more…. I guess I am not that deep to understand it.

    Liked by 1 person

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