The insult, when it came,
didn’t register at all,
the alcohol having muffled
the rattling tail of danger.

I had first thought interest
from the girl, older but not
without the right colours
of my own drunken banter.

What had I done?
Except hold my ground.
That and not pay attention
to her man in the shadows.

This was my hangout.
The bouncer kicked them out
and I, shaken but whole, began
to iron my highs and lows.

How strange it is when
your name is read aloud
above your head, the sigil 
crossed bright red by fate.

The soothsayer might call
Ignorance by its ancient name
and cast it over both
prey and lion in spate

for the event enters fog
for the converging eyes,
some human, some alien
geographical spirit

hovering over a small
glued up and cheap cardboard,
the globe I remembered
in darkness hastily lit.

For Shayan Mazroei