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When water tasted as good as my Palestinian friend said it would

They removed the thermostats,

And made us pay for every cup of water we used,

 

I was standing in the rain,

With a white friend and a Servant.

 

We marveled at the homemade architecture,

Hopped the rivulets of grime,

And heaved big sighs.

 

I asked him why there were,

Water tanks with signs that read,

Twenty shillings a litre.

 

He said,

They sell water here too.

 

Scottish men protect,

Single malt whiskey,

Welsh women,

The language they speak,

 

My Palestinian friend once told me,

Water,

Israelis keep.

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Written by
ipoet
Published
Nov 4, 2012
Lines·Words
19·87
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