From behind the window
pane
Is a TV screen
Beyond which
Are fish swimming
Almost linearly
Without each seemingly
looking
At one another.
A man a little ways from me
Sipping coffee and spewing
nicotine
Is hitting keys with
one finger
On his mini screen.
I too take a drag from
my hookah
And exhale a smoke
screen.
Fog from the mountain
Is descending.
Humility settles on my
lenses
Half thoughts behind
my eyes
Are forming in the
shade of the evening
And no one and nothing
is looking.
Hold on. I think I
have received an imaginary note
On the screen on my
retina.
How nearly exciting
It’s all cool, calm
and serene
For hours on end
With water bubbles from
here or there
Or elsewhere not seen
Periodically rising.
Dawn is imminent
Seasonal clouds are approaching
And the mind’s eye,
the screens, and the fish
Now vanish into
nothing.
Ali H. Raddaoui
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