lazy Baghdad afternoon

the gilded sun glazes our trailers in bold strokes of orange, yellow and pomegranate
it is sunday and the party train is stranded in the desert
so what is one to do?
i make a predictable choice
i write
i versify and tweak terminology
fit chains of nouns onto wheels of verbs to  craft a lyrical
machine to take wings outside this waste and jungle of habitations
escape mentally if not physically and take a few snapshots
it is peaceful so far yet
these souvenirs are hard-earned
ironically it is tranquil in this moment and one expects a dog to
lick his chops and conduct an intense inspection of its anatomy before sluggishly strolling
over to his corner and taking refuge in sleep
an afternoon for relaxation and contemplation
accompanied by malian guitars yet
it is election time
one hears pop pop pop ratatatat in the distance
a hint at less edifying activities and amusements being enjoyed at this hour
religion
money
politics
relationships
continue to be subjects of discussion and strife as i repose in my corner and take the liberties
of the pen and choose my canvas and brush and palette
who knows what will happen and who it will happen to?
i could quote statistics and historical volumes and census figures
but ignorance persists
one man slanders another and the plotters crouch in the shadows
we walk freely yet carry ammunition
handshakes are exchanged with pious exhortartions as soldiers in camp
only are vexed
if the store doesn't carry this gadget or that
we really don't know or care about this place at times
i long for home
and the usual fatburgers and cases of beer
the intoxicated revels in my corner
of the establishment
the trendy dances and this hour's movies and musical creations
yet i maintain a library
i read about this place long before i ever set foot here
am i transfixed in time and place
an unwilling guest in one of my volumes?
perhaps and
perhaps not