Messi, Argentina, Belgium and fiesta in a Buenos Aires bar

In the "Poesía" they gather in mystery covered,
Bathed in anticipation, goose pimples quivering.
Poesía, a café of words written, of words spoken;
Heart and soul glued to the screen: Argentina! Argentina!

The girl in black lavishes her beau with choral arrangements,
The sound of sweet verses leaking from young untested lips,
Cheeks trembling, skin alert, heart with passion aflame:
"Messi will do it!...will he?...will we?...can we?"

The robust waitress clothed as Messi number ten
Passes, zigzags, throws furtive glances at the screen;
The ever bouncing ball comes and goes, as life, as love,
In eternal movement, seeking, exploring, wanting, counting.


"Goal! goal! goal! goal, not a Messi goal but a goal indeed!"
Arms seek the heavens, voices in folkloric rapture
"We did it! We´re in! Brother I told you we could!"
A gigantic smile wraps the bar in poetic communion.

And now to work, and now to pay or not to pay the vultures
and now to pay or not to pay the financial moneygrubbers
and now to feed the body, and now to feed the spirit
and now to prepare for the next challenge in the struggle to be.