The Erotic Life
Should have wrote that thing down
instead of wreaking havoc about it
yet the other self says keep trying.
Once Haj Ibrahim drank the ashes
of his cigarette from his tea,
said it was good for us.
His wife came through the door
looking pale once again,
thoroughly his wife.
Oftentimes I saw them out front
peeling tobacco leaves one by one,
a group of sisters smiling.
One time the mule got loose
so I led him home by the rope,
took him apples in the afternoon.
Their children sat out on the roof
watching us through the window,
told the village how foreigners make love.
