The San Antonio River Walk

The San Antonio River Walk

By Marian Haddad


I remember starting the day
at a red brick church there
on Presa. The grass on the lawns
held a yellow hue, unlike the blue-green
grass of San Diego, unlike the dry, dry grass
or the rock-and-cactus landscapes
of El Paso's front yards.

There, on The River Walk, happy to be back.
Everyone's slow movements under a Texas sky.
We walked in steamy heat, sometimes almost
skipping from stone to stone, there,
in front of La Mansión,
palm fronds drooping along the limestone walks.

We made our way down to the river
and the bright canopies skirting
the edge; sidewalk cafés and the river barges
and the tourists waving back at us — or anyone
walking by. I was almost happy
to be hot and tired from the walk.

Travelers in straw hats, sunglasses, shorts;
large groups laughing, smoking cigarettes, sipping
pink drinks at Boudro's, dipping
chips into stone bowls
of guacamole and molcajeta,
worlds away from their own worlds, I'm sure.

And the tables for two, the romantic date,
people trying to escape — from the busy world.
Blue plumbagos peeking out, and the bougainvillea
climbing up red brick or up the stucco wall
of what I'd like to think a house.
Here, The River Walk is slow and sweet; dropping
the day's rhythm down a notch; a waterfall
trickling comfortably in sun; another sounds
its own wide rush.
Occasional bright orange flowers popping up.



Marian Haddad is a San Antonio resident whose latest collection of poems is "Somewhere between Mexico and a river called home
Posted over on My San Antonio