Tangier

There is a view in Tangier
That travels through trees
Onto the variegated blue bay waters.

I have seen that view in another place,
Through a lens that equally distorts.
This is the rebirth of the first edition
Tender is the Night Scribner cover.

So I try to recall the tenderness of Tangier
The dry desert air,
The sandaled feet that raised dust
In the market place,
The dealers, snake charmers,
Bargain hunters, camel riders,
The six-fingered tailor who offered
Couscous to the starving Americans,
The hole in the floor and the bucket of water,
The panoramic view of a poverty-stricken town
Strewn with antennas,
And the yellow-toothed young polyglots
Who picked at my pockets
And offered to make babies with me.

But what of tenderness?

The tenderness of Tangier surfaced
From its allure and mystery,
Its beautiful blue water
That served as backdrop to
White stucco buildings
And endless golden sand.
It emerged in a restaurant
With bright ceramic-tile mosaics,
Elaborate geometric patterns,
And a view of the Strait of Gibraltar.
It surfaced with the kindness of
A family that offered food
When they could ill afford it,
And it leapt an ocean to provide
Leather jackets for rich Americans
Who never graced its shores.

© Joanne Zarrillo Cherefko