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# In the Shadow of the Alhambra
- URL: https://www.andyposner.org/in-the-shadow-of-the-alhambra/
- Published: 2007-11-27T01:09:48.000Z
- Updated: 2007-11-27T01:09:48.000Z
- Author: Andy
- Tags: America on the Brink, poetry, #Migrated-1784090317409, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-07-15 04:39

I promised no more poems of that night at the Alhambra,  
holding hands beneath the moon Lorca once adored,  
for to dwell on love’s sleight of hand is to risk breaking  
its spell. It was decades ago, in gentler times,  
as the past is always more gentle, tender even, like a knot  
in your back you can’t massage, so you lay on a baseball,  
re-position until the seams touch your pain and you think  
*This is what we mean when we say it hurts so good*.  
Yet here I go again, re-winding the tape to see how  
Copperfield [made Lady Liberty disappear](https://www.openculture.com/2024/11/how-magician-david-copperfield-made-the-statue-of-liberty-disappear-1983.html?ref=andyposner.org): each time  
I learn the truth, I become young and naïve again,  
disappointed to lose what was never mine to begin with.  
Once, we sat outside *La Estacíon de Granada* from dawn  
to dusk, passing notes, drawings, glances, watching trains  
come and go and believing we alone could remain there forever,  
the fair youth of Keats’ Grecian Urn, our bodies like two embers  
falling, falling. That night I could not sleep, I stood  
on the balcony of my Andalusian apartment certain this was  
the end of time, and perhaps it was: trains led me away,  
my cheeks wet with her tears of goodbye, oceans separated  
me from myself, and somehow there I’ve remained, on a bench  
in the shadow of the Alhambra, chewing on bread and honey.