Giants in Hell, was the exact look on that beggars face.
I walked and walked, back and forth passed back alleys, bars and ruins of Coptic churches. People at the bars were dancing to fill a void, a perfect way to hide, in their voodoo dance trance
Frame by frame, incorruptible Saturday night dancer.
Twelve years ago today, my car crash, blood everywhere.
The car crash that defined me, a near life experience, perfect balance of adrenaline, middle class ideas, baptism of fire, invincible that weekend.
Every now and then I taste the zinc, petrol's, blood plastics in my mouth.
Absolute panic, all before breakfast.
Caves and coves, blind hands touch me in a crowd, Marrakech King Cobra darts and spits at me, I show no fear, and locals respect this. Everything a big cryptic oriental niche code. I hold a little child who cries, my granddad contacts me through a strangers smile.
Police rifle through my windbreaker, and take me in for questioning.
All rights reserved to Chris Tyrimos
Chris Tyrimos
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-night-in-tangiers/
