Casa de Paco

White dots
Have spotted my vision
On many occasions
Small white fireworks
Flashing in moments of glory

A quick turn
A well placed shot
The bar erupts
Fate hangs happily in the balance
Mothers hug their sons
Old men embrace
Hope alive
Vibrating chairs
So much that I cannot sit down
Rubbing my head

He has been silent all game
Empty beer bottles strewn
Crowding a lonely table
Minutes passing
Seeming like hours
Feeling like years

A quick flick
Chested down
Weighted pass
Open man
Top corner
Pande-fucking-monium
I grab her as she jumps in my arms
We both hug him
Shouting
Cheering
Arms wave in front of the projection screen
Handball

Devastated

Silence

Minutes pass like seconds
Seeming like days
The whistle blows
Sad people pay bills
Carrying bottles to the bar
One slips, breaks
“No pasa nada”
He picks up the broken shards of glass
Touches your shoulder
And shrugs

Passion
Needs no tongue
And Football
Is never
Lost in translation