The yellow donkeys                                                       

of Villareal

play at El Madrigal

the most beautiful name

for a venue

warm nights

ecstasy of the masses

palm trees

a hot breeze

screams in unison

at the running men in yellow

but birds still fly and

someone is still alone

playing her favourite record

with the window open

visions of a scary coast

along the backlit buildings

while the yellow ones

enter the culverts of

El Madrigal