drags on the heels of their shoes in the streets littered with
language and snake charmers, waves on the green starred
red flag, stands in the center of Plaza Jemma El Fna a neon orange
and green street cleaner, begs for dirham with crooked hunch
back, jingles money in hand to get attention, buzzes skinny
motorcycles between foodcarts, vendors and tourists, watches
christian missionaries backpacked and strutting embarrassingly
over patterned pavement kid in hand, pushes huge four celled
prison boxes containing monkeys in plain nakedness and injustice
on a Tuesday or Wednesday or whatever day it is, with the one legged
wheel chair spirit of religious dynamo heating up the ancient Arabic winds.
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