I remember

the terrible news from childhood.

Agadir destroyed.

Fifteen thousand dead

in fifteen seconds.

An earthquake

tore the town apart

and consumed it.

So much later

there is no

talk here but

that earthquake,

the heat, and sardines.

Fat, pink travellers

hustled in a smelly souk.

Fifteen thousand ghosts

mingle in the beach bar,

glad they are dead.

A single toothed old man

sends a six year old

to collect cash from tourists

for a photograph of his camel.

Empty black eyes show

beneath his raggy turban.

The earth tore a

fishing town apart.

and in the scar grew sunbeds.