If I Could Be Anywhere

I'd jump into my calendar's panoramic photo
Of the Ménara Pavillion.
I would make my way to the edge of the balcony
Of the sandstone structure
On the edge of a square-acre pool
In Marakech.

The hem of my turquoise linen gandora
Will graze around my bare feet
As the warm breeze plays with my hair
And melts the frost of winter away
From my heart, my bones, my blood
In Marakech.

My eyes drink in the blues and purples of the sky and water
The incongruity of palm trees and pine
My toes soak up the heat of the stones
As I descend the stairs to dip them
In the mountain's waters
Of Marakech.

I'll learn the language
And use my tongue to
Speak and taste
Foriegn things
And bend my neck to listen close
In Marakech.

For now I keep my back to the window
And the brutality of winter
I Swallow pride
I Feign interest
I daydream
Of Marakech