Monday, 21 January 2008
fluted patterns on the minaret took him to another era
what was the king thinking when he had it built
why construct a tall tower
arches over alcoves, tapering towards the sky-
it had what purpose, he could not deduce
neck turned up, eyes so wide, rubbing his back, he looked over.
iron pillar, a garden fit for angels, places of worship
his vision encompassed all. he stiffled a yawn
stealthy gazed at his watch, time well past his lunch.
work was waiting, his mind desired playing hooky
hunger pangs hit him, deciding his next move
he hurried to the nearest food joint-
"fork in the road, at crossroads"