between barra and pelourinho

two americans, lacking the portugeuse tongue
strolling down a street
between barra and pelourinho
pavement unfamiliar
unlike NY, the cobblestone sidewalks they walk over have patterns
...in examining the patterns of my life
the unexpected happened

not yet to pelourinho on a deserted street
stores closed
"amigo"
"amigo"
they ignore
a man dressed in white and his friend follow
"amigo,(blah, blah, blah) camere" meaning to eat
they continue to ignore
until ignoring becomes impossible
and violation inevitable

he begins to attack the american man
grabbing at his arms
taking his watch, snapping the band
a watch purchased to be stolen

she stands there
with minor screams of "eh, eh"
didn~t do any good
feeling paralyzed and out numbered

victoriously he runs away, a car screeches to a halt
but not to aid the americans
to share a laugh or two with the muggers friend
the mugger, long gone

a doorman on a stoop
he looks unstartled, unbothered
he glances at the americans in the eye with no apology
as if to say
"this sort of thing happens everyday"

so on the americans walk, calmly
head high, showing no fear

they never made it to pelourinho
retiring to the apartment they napped the pain away

the mugger didn~t look particularly unfed
nor was he professional in his actions, clumsy at best
nevertheless, after the loss of safety, the abandon of adventure,
i would like to think of it as a contribution

he must have needed that watch more than us
more than we needed to feel at home in a country that is not ours
we are just visitors taking in their everyday
taking in their patterns
I suppose we have now taken part
involuntarily

two americans taking in the good with the bad
my mind roams to the worst things that could have happened
but my soul dances to all of the wonder Brazil has already given me