AQABA

AQABA
PM 1301191

Scattered leaves crunch beneath

my feet as I make my way

through the school parking lot. Almost

home, mere meters to go but I

slow down now, trying to capture

the essence of being outdoors

before I am lulled to sleep by the

artificial air from an oil-burning

furnace.

People of all ages scurry by me

as I try to make as much noise

as possible with the fallen leaves.

I allow myself to be taken back

to a lonely riverside, waiting to

go to work, throwing small rocks

at ducks that mockingly swim away

if one even comes remotely close to 

them.

The stones create ripples in the

water making the ducks bob over

so slightly with each wake.

I look down the path,

towards the street and my

self-imposed prison that has forced

my life into a different direction.

I find so many people to blame

but it comes back solidly

right in the middle of my forehead

that I have created my own hell.

The leaves continue to crackle

under my feet, puddles of

water already starting to freeze

at the edges, nightfall brings

the cold and now I yearn to

arrive at home,

hoping for the warmth, soft

blankets and pillows to pare

down my anxiety and create a

cocoon to sleep away the

rest of the darkness until a

new day decides to rear its' head.

Dreams of waking on an oil rigs,

swimming in caviar and

playing volleyball on the beach in

Eilat, tripping over Uzis left

lying buried under sleeping bags

by careless soldiers who need

the stinging salt air to remind

them that they are still human

beings no matter what they were told

to do.

Crabs sidle past us just as the sun

is about to go down, some carrying 

small pieces of discarded falafel

and orange peels. The sun sets,

the breeze changes direction and

all the lights suddenly go on in

Aqaba, then night falls quickly.

MCC