the burlap bag to the sea

we lived

in Barcelona for several years.

we were

young,

grade school,

and yet it didn't take us long

to speak

the language

to learn how

to kick a ball without

using our hands.

we sipped on wine,

we ate

paella,

we watched the gypsies

in black

pulling

their wagons

and naked children along.

i remember

hearing

the roar

of the crowd at the stadium

as the bulls

died in the dirt.

i can still

see the caretaker of the house

carrying

a burlap bag

full of newborn kittens

to the sea.

wondering,

what this cruelty was,

and yet

not, going on.