SALIM

For an old friend...

There was the homeland Salim described so vividly

in the military post room, where he showed me photos

and presented me with an ornate copper coffee pot.

He tried so hard to teach me Arabic, but

I just couldn't grasp it. All that 

reading and writing in alien characters -

and from right to left - really screwed my head.

The next week he'd be returning home to his child bride

and swapping army uniform for traditional dress.

Perhaps I'd never see Salim again, but

in my mind's eye, I'd haunt his whitewashed home

and linger often beneath a scorching Omani sun...