the things i saw in corfu

a boy laying bricks with his father;

they stood sweltering

under the glaring sun,

son silently handed bricks over,

laid them in the calloused hands

of his grunting father.

a greek woman wailed

on the streets of a

tourist riddled town,

draped in black, her hands

weighed down

by chains of crosses,

almost stepping on a man

asleep on the pavement

with his snoring dog.

two friends chattered happily,

their hands like old newspaper

trembling in the breeze

as the pebble beach

rattled down below.

a man led his wife down the street,

gripping her hand, as if scared

she might disappear if he

let go.

they were too used to the glittering

of a too-blue sea, used to the view

of countless boats

bobbing between waves.

while the gleeful blare of folk music

cut through the silence,

life swept them up;

almost like seawater cleansing me.