what is this tapping
of foreign hammers on a sand-coveted roof
and the cold mist engulf you
here
at the garden of eden.
i wait for time's hand to draw together
an early lunch maybe
tick, tock
a short exchange of words with a former dancer
how is possible love possible
when no promises were made
thinking
the wind shakes the trees to wake
the house is stirring, wake up!
banging now
endless fixing
the birds and ravens chirp continuously
in constant announcement to fly off
summer fear
tick, tock
the ninth hour is close to an end
why do my thoughts end with him
seventy-one days have passed since i last saw him
that kiss lingers still
do i grace his mind once in a long while at least
i dream so
those locals again
dark men with piercing eyes, hair everywhere
some women cloaked, black as their sand-stormed nights
leaving their BMWs and mini coopers unlocked, unwashed
funny how common there are here
whilst garnering millions back home
the dancer is back for another session
i should get her name
my manners has turned as crude as their English
camel dreaming
so, this is Bahrain
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