The Umbrella

The umbrella was ascending

As the wind tested its fullness

And threatened to invert its perfect metal frame

It was a rainbow with its infinite colors

Against the crisp celestial backdrop of spring

It spun in its struggle

And danced with the wind,

But holding it down was a man

Stout—with a plump belly

A straw hat balanced on his head

As he pleaded with the umbrella

To shield him from the sun

But his skin was already russet

And looked like worn leather.

He had knocked back his chair

In his clumsy attempt to conquer the umbrella

He lunged after it with heavy feet after each strong gust of wind

Then I saw the strawberries in crates not far from his overturned chair

They were a bleeding crimson sitting in the sun

Begging to be bought.

The sign read:

Straberies $2.00

Fresas $2.00

And I thought this scene comical

Until I saw behind the sign

A little boy with huaraches staring at the man and the umbrella.

No one bought any strawberries,

So neither did I.