a poem I just wrote
Caroline McNamara
May 1, 2007
One Day in Morocco
I met you in Morocco,
one day.
Sitting backwards
on a train,
the hills and men,
goats and children,
existing in reverse.
I peered at
fleeting shacks
as you told me stories of growing up:
when there were no phones in houses,
so the man from the corner store
would yell,
“Reda, it’s your uncle!”
I saw the man and I saw the streets.
We practiced each other’s language,
unfamiliar words rolling in my mouth,
like clunky marbles,
and I learned to count to three in Arabic -
wahed, jzhuz, tlata.
You said I sounded like a three year old.
Morocco smelled like orange blossoms -
I wished I could bury my nose,
face,
and whole body
in the smell.
The expectant rain
hanging in the air
heightened every sensation.
I left the next morning,
on a forward-facing bus
that smelled of warm vomit,
olives and sweat.
and we drove through dirty towns
and stopped at random places
where beggars and boys
entered to plead for money
or that you buy a bar of chocolate.
I avoided their eyes
and wondered how so much magic
can exist in one day
and not spill over
to the next.
May 1, 2007
One Day in Morocco
I met you in Morocco,
one day.
Sitting backwards
on a train,
the hills and men,
goats and children,
existing in reverse.
I peered at
fleeting shacks
as you told me stories of growing up:
when there were no phones in houses,
so the man from the corner store
would yell,
“Reda, it’s your uncle!”
I saw the man and I saw the streets.
We practiced each other’s language,
unfamiliar words rolling in my mouth,
like clunky marbles,
and I learned to count to three in Arabic -
wahed, jzhuz, tlata.
You said I sounded like a three year old.
Morocco smelled like orange blossoms -
I wished I could bury my nose,
face,
and whole body
in the smell.
The expectant rain
hanging in the air
heightened every sensation.
I left the next morning,
on a forward-facing bus
that smelled of warm vomit,
olives and sweat.
and we drove through dirty towns
and stopped at random places
where beggars and boys
entered to plead for money
or that you buy a bar of chocolate.
I avoided their eyes
and wondered how so much magic
can exist in one day
and not spill over
to the next.