All-Night Teashop
       

Having tallied the day's cracks,
Majnoon sleeps on the sidewalk
with his soiled blanket and tin can.

A qat chewer spits his desires into the street,
orders a glass of milk tea,
strokes the softness of his own cheek.

Inside, behind a squad of blenders,
the sandwich boy furrows out
the soft guts of a bun.

Beyond the lone fluorescent bulb,
an army transport rattles to a halt,
emptying its cargo of young conscripts.

Their carbines sleep across their laps
as they devour sandwiches of jam
and cheese, glasses of mango juice.

And what am I? Not tourist,
not spy, not oil man looking to hire.
I offer no opportunities, nothing,

except maybe the compassion
I feel when I see, no greater
wish in the world than tea.

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Copyright © 2017 Yahya Frederickson All rights reserved
from In a Homeland Not Far
Press 53
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission