through passage-ways in shaded morning

heeding not the subtle warning 

of the burning sun to come 

I follow you as best I can

after all, you are the man

all we explore is known to you 

to me it’s strange 

though once before I wandered here

in some dreams I had alone

and so I feel it is my home

we pass the mosques where people pray

we pass the dates and figs piled high

I catch a glimpse of you ahead 

if we are parted by the crowd 

will I be lost or only free?

your words repeating in my head

‘go to the cafe by the door 

wait for me if you are lost

ignore the crush, meet me at the olive oil,

there beside the beggars gate’ 

oil to soothe?

oil to blend?

oil to smooth a slippery path?

oil to heal your ravaged skin?

I turn away

I turn and walk the other way.