| The mist is seeping off the ocean coast | | | | worry about, or eleven inches of snow |
| in Lima-seeping I say, seeping up and | | | | overnight, just an ocean a few blocks |
| into Milaflores Park, by the café: El | | | | away, and sunny days. |
| Parquetito this sunny, Tuesday | | | | The park is green, the fog has reached |
| afternoon, where I am having my coffee | | | | it now, it is also reaching me, in El |
| and coke, sitting back absorbing the | | | | Parquetito, but it will fade with the |
| moment, writing this down for you. Other | | | | heat of the day, it always does. Romina |
| than that, doing nothing, nothing, I | | | | is serving us today (she is young and |
| say, nothing at all. | | | | happy, always smiling, goes to school in |
| Somewhere in the background the nation's | | | | the evenings); Rosa will have Cebiche, |
| song is being played, and what really is | | | | for me, Lasagna. |
| going through my mind on this sunny day | | | | I like the watching, listening, smells |
| is: who will ever remember this one | | | | of the surrounding actions and motions |
| simple day. | | | | of the café, I feel like I am |
| My wife is reading the book: "Last | | | | underwater, watching everything, like an |
| Autumn and Winter," poems out of | | | | invisible alien. Ah! but who will |
| Minnesota, and all around her the world | | | | remember a simple day like this, if I |
| seems busy, hot, sounds with entities of | | | | don't write about it? |
| life. No potholes, like in Minnesota to | | | | |