On waking

after dreams of an Arabian souk

having no money for smoky dancers,

whose sand clad feet slap dusty alleys

I hold a microscopic lizard

he wriggles in my cupped hands

when he leaps away I see

he is skinny as a wire.

A childhood friend not seen in years appears.

There is a bus ride, the bus near missed,

the road skirts perilous cli...

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