At the Rahba Souk
I buy some hair of two women, quarter-kilo
fasoukh, some honey, a lizard—if a flock
of partridges
fly into a short row of palms, “better
handful your dates, monsieur”—drunk
two cups
coffee and smoked, while a man
climbed onto a bench and blew his horn—not
enough
I believe has ever been studied about the way
animals imitate other animals—
the way
a donkey that has been braying, finally makes
gurgling noises.
