Most of the time
I'm not thinking.
As I've been in Iran.
Walking in Darrous,
Admiring the hues
Against the whites
Of one story houses
Nestled amidst gardens
And joobs and fountains.

This blue's everywhere
Thankfully, the green too.
But no eve's air's ever
As delicious as my youth's.
Warm wind ruffling my hair
My two feet taking me
To history, geography,
Or a pretty and white skin
To make it all disappear
Along with my pains.

Dee is beautifully dressed.
In her parallel universe
The now doesn't exist.
Her head is out there
Ironing the wrinkles
Of the pits and the falls,
Because, well, survival's
Not a god-given thing
In her almond khaki eyes
Scanning for broken lanes.

Whatever we both pine for
In our rich paradise
Veers apocalyptic
With an alarming
Regularity, with the ease
Of a selfish comfort:
To avert our gaze
And like you dear reader
To lay our immortality
Wherever it stays.


Jam24