LA PAZ: IN THE JEWISH RESTAURANT

I lost a notebook with details of the Inca
Champion pulled to pieces by a horse at each limb,
Nicely captured by a museum waxwork model.

A city given this name must be asking for trouble.
Earlier a dog was caught in a microbus’ wheels, turned
360 degrees twice, then thrown, limp, onto the verge.

Back on the Isla del Sol, Eusebio observed that life
Had always been kinder beyond the city, always would be,
Even if you had to cart your water uphill, twice a week.

His young son, in full Batman gear, flew around the bar,
Captured a Brummie banker’s heart. He’d lose his bearings
Here, mapping the hill-climbing stars, world turned upside down.

The beer is full of fizz. Altitude stimulates bubbles.
It’s nosebleed country. A woman sits at the next table
Chatting away, clutching a cloth, trying to stem the flow.

People gossip in Yiddish. Order in Aymarac, English,
Quecha, Catalan. Every tongue bar Spanish seems to thrive.
Resistance to conquest persists. It has become linguistic.

la paz 6.10.04