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The vendor’s fruit
cones the street
into spirals
of bananas
and plums.

A sticking heat
fingers hairs
on skin
in oily
sweat.

And lights at
night hallow
orange huge ships
in vapour.

People pass on
psalms on palms
in mosqued
arcades

where roots or potions cluster
near cloth and spices
on
easy terms
with life.

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