Afternoon, Leonidio

I came off the road and stopped
where the shade begins.

The heat stayed on my back a while,
as if it did not want to leave.
My shirt was damp.
My legs still turning inside me.

I leaned the bike against the wall.
White paint, flaking.
A strip of shadow just wide enough.

Inside, the man did not ask anything.
He set the glass down.
Cold, sweating already.

Coffee, thick at the bottom.
Ice shifting.
A little foam that held, then broke.

I drank too fast at first.
Felt it in my teeth.
Then slower.

The street went on without me.
A scooter passed.
Someone called from a balcony.

Nothing needed to happen.

I sat there,
the glass in my hand,
watching the light move
a little further down the wall.

It was enough
to be out of the sun
and not moving.

For a while
I did not think
of leaving.