Turning Into Tangier

turniing into 1

You must risk everything for Freedom, and give everything for Passion

                   I                                  Roman Payne

The wind tangled her tambourine ribbons

as she twisted through streets

of white houses and cobblestones,

looking for the wild song that might have been

her true self. I remember that girl

who befriended the gutter doves

and port city that had sentences with no endings,

just run-on  possibilities

haunted by sweet smoke and flute, a harem

of hanging carpets.

 

She was like a bird I wanted to catch

but could never come close enough

to share her wings or shadow. The sun

always separated us with glare. I turned away

and woke up trembling.

 

II

My shoulder’s looped in leather, an old satchel

as I rush up the  stairs

averting looks and looming clocks;

I have ten minutes to board my plane.

Beads of amber and coral hang

around  my neck with tribal grace. My long hair wisped,

wanton as the esparto grass

leaning over the Moroccan  hillside. I have the taste

of mint tea  on my tongue  and a handsome man

(once Ohio’s native son) waiting in the desert air,

many sea miles away. Love has rendered me

impulsive. I look toward the window

and feel the rhythmic light, that same girl’s pulse,

a gypsy flash of gold.

 

 

4 comments

  1. Hi Sarah

    So glad you enjoyed this! I really value your comments and perspective. Thanks, as always, so much for stopping by and sharing your thoughts!

    Take care,
    my best,
    Wendy

    Like

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