in the riad
you thought you heard a siren sing to you
because the lucidness of the mediterranean breeze
set the place ablaze

in fact it was the midday prayer
a pulsating f sharp
cuts through the town
bringing all under the influence of him

the locals call this place chefchaouen
the blue city
conversation is rampant in this town
symphonies of language are scattered

weathered backs
wrinkles and creases that document
the plight of these creatures
they heave baskets
weighted by their livelihood

when night falls
all is intoxicated by the temperature
and nymphs scurry in the form of sand

in the riad
the siren sings to you again