Tuesday, September 13, 2022

15,585. TRIPOLI

TRIPOLI
I reached that end of the divide,
where the valley bows to the
towering hills. There was nothing
really left  -  the table had been
overturned and the sky was less
than nil, for this is where the
world diminished : Purple haze,
or purple rain, I could never
tell the difference. Libya to
Lebanon, they each laid claim
to the quite-same name.
-
Whatever divides at a point like
this stays divided for ever. I 
ordered a tar-black coffee in
some freeman's sad cafe. He 
was wearing his long robe, as he 
brought my tray. Calling me a
Kafir, I didn't yet understand. 
He bowed and walked off.
-
Later I learned of my error, from
the Paris guy at another table. He
had not said Kafir, rather just
Taqiyah  -  no insult at all. He
was requesting that I, perhaps,
should wear a hat.

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