Bench

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This is the bench we choose
because it has more shade these
are the trees, this is the Mediterranean.
We sit here we fix the sea
with our eyes and it does not
fight back, it is wide and clear enough
to embrace our talk our illusions.
We talk. We have young hands
we move them
because we believe
they matter. We read.
Mostly the day but also poetry
we find out it’s better when it’s spoken.
People pass by, look, but we
are not being theatrical just
true. I inhale a cigarette perhaps
for show but also for the light
bitterness.

This is the bench it has a small
engraving it says
that someone relatively important
said this is the most beautiful
view in the Middle East. We laugh
at those Westerners romanticizing
our sea, and yet
we come back here every day
and yet we plan
to come back here when our hands
have bulging veins,
after all the distractions
of land in between.

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