Stories (inspired by the Sahara Desert)
Tonight, the universe plays
like television in the middle of nowhere
now here, centered on the stars.
It rewinds to sunset, presses pause
on pastel cliff ridges stretched out
across green-mahogany irises
streaked over red-orange ceilings.
Silhouettes of four-legged beauties
carry souk spells over humps
of sand and creed
from orientalist shadows
peering through pashmina veils.
Every breath is a story
waiting to be told, each inhale
a history lost never to retrieve:
These stories, told time and again
over Berber whisky- they rest tranquil
under the Sahara sky, slipped under
sleeping bags and headscarves
in restful wonder.
— The Finicky Cynic
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