On this desert land he wakes
Early enough to pick the freshest fish
He promised his charming missus.
In his pajamas, he marches to the old port
Now bustling with bearded men in turbans and robes,
And fish in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and colors.
He savors the moment, the Gulf air cooling his cheeks,
Mingling with the scent of the freshness he sees,
Masking the reek from the tortured building walls
Where the bearded men take quick leaks.
Now he saunters past the fish in delightful display
Keen on finding the right one for the day
When he spots one seller with one hand under his robe,
Yanking and jerking, this way and that way.
His stomach suddenly starts churning wild.
With harried steps, he goes to another seller,
And he himself hastily bags, though not the right kind
Of his fresh fish for Friday.
MLJ/07/01/2023/StoriesFromAroundTheWorld
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