Seeking, on the hot dusty streets: A poem 

Out on the hot dusty streets 

where the swift wind lurked 

as if seeking amid 

the petty stores  

And circular swoops of laughter emerged 

from piquant fires burning within. 

Sharing such secrets gave us 

a subtle grace, an acquiescent wit 

That feeling the sacred and profane 

our thoughts encompassed, both, 

the intense and the puerile 

As if all contradictions existed 

merely side by side. 

But even as the laughter hung  

I knew the truth was 

but a seeker’s tears 

What a famished hunter learns 

after his heart wishes