13.Shelter. Sheltered from the sin of the Island Sheltered from the Gypsies Inbred & ingrown Wonky limbed, dark & undersown Who sell drugs along the wall That leads up the hill To the Old Town. Sheltered from the first party of the summer Up on the cliffs, in the clearing, Among the evergreens, Where the fat men, sitting in plastic chairs, Hand out pills & watch the dancers dance Considering closely the efficacy Of the new season's supply. Sheltered from the 4 by 4s, The Hummers, the Porsches That come- Like snakes in the Olive trees- With their drivers (The straightened hair, The dark glasses, The constructed faces) Out of driveways Through the high electric gates Of designers houses, Down yellow earth caminos Passing Hippies In beat up Beetles Who dress in bright colours But rarely smile. Sheltered from all the Divorcees In beachside cafes with their Non-fat lattes Talking about how, only now, Are they Really Discovering Themselves. Sheltered from the Older kids Who get lifts to Santa Gertrudis Where they gather in groups To hang in corners- Pale skin & headphones- Cigarettes and Hoodies- High on testosterone, They push and shove and shout While their fathers and mothers Do lines and swap partners At weekends. Sheltered from the Transvestite's Parade, Through the port where cocktails are 3 for 1, Headdresses and feather boas, Men's shaved legs and Cuban high heels, Claps & shouts, bad food, plastic chairs, The smell of sweet perfume & sewers. Sheltered from the sweat of alcohol and pills Of men fucking in the dunes behind the fence At Las Salinas; Sheltered from the car crashes on the San An Road With the Guarda Civil, ambulances, Stretchers, oxygen masks & clubbers taking pictures On mobile phones. Sheltered Sheltered by the olive grove Where the leaves, flecked grey and green Soften the sun & shade the walkway From our house- our home- to the wooden table Where sits the recent lunch, The open books, the towels upon chairs. Above & around is the sound of birds That mix with the hum of the pump Which brings water up from the well. A tractor revs, the little dog snores & a gust of wind sends the smell Of lavender and lemons across the path That leads down to the far corner of the field. & there- There they both are- Sunhats and laughter, One with a bucket One with a spade- There they both are- Not a care in the world Deep in concentration Passing the afternoon Digging in the deep red earth- Digging for gold.