Why would you cry after eating Ethiopian food?

Maybe you saw legions of jellyfish in the gulf,
little translucent angels floating in a grace you can never understand.
Maybe you hoped for rain,
the sky heaved and spat and clouded and disappointed you.
Maybe you saw a white butterfly
and you wanted to touch it, ask its name, somehow taste the way it flies.
Maybe you spilled coffee on the street in the morning
and in the forming, sullen puddle, you saw your reflection and realized you were aging.
Maybe because you sat on the sidewalk and a half-furred kitten snuggled up to you
and you could do nothing but pour some water for it even as it died.

Is it possible that you cried because you can't name the wonder?
Is it possible that you cried because there are so many more stars in your heart than in the sky?
It's not because you miss anyone
It's not because you were held by someone
It's not because you were scared

You didn't cry because you fell asleep beside two whores, right?
You didn't cry because your mother is dead, right?
You didn't cry because you can't talk to your father, right?

That's right, it was because the food tasted good.
Because the girls were worth it.
Because you always cry when you are happy.

Yeah, happy.
You always cry when you are happy.

Walking

I'm not a runner, so I went walking last week (probably the last time I will be hoofing it around Dubai until the next "winter).
I moseyed down Mankhool Road, and saw downtown Dubai from this vantage:

That's the Burg Khalifa (nee Dubai), surrounded by some of the most exciting buildings I have ever seen (except for that part which keeps them from being built...aka, Dubai's enormous, unreported debt problem).  I kept on walking down Mankhool, and saw this:

That is one of the Metro Stations here.  The metro is like the Subway in NY, only much cleaner and without riff-raff.  They have 3 classes of riders:  Gold (that's me), regular (you know, the sub-continentals) and women's (which has no race barrier).  I've yet to ride it, but I understand that it's really nice if you can afford the extra 17.6 cents to enjoy the gold class.

I kept moving...

A library!  Who knew?  I haven't yet met an Emirati who reads on purpose.

I'd been walking for 45 minutes, but I figured that my knees didn't hurt so I'd keep on going:

The flowers that bloom here, during this time of year, are gorgeous.  The birds that sing through here are amazing.  It's fleeting, as is everything, but it's still worth taking a minute to breathe it all in.

Still hoofing it, I realized I was coming into Satwa, aka Paki-land.  (That means that it's the part of Dubai that is populated mainly by Pakistanis).  But the Burg started to really stand out from every other building, kind of like it does when I look at it from the Al Sheba area.  I kept on walking.

This is even with the Grand Mosque here, but I couldn't take a picture of the mosque, because it was...uhm....afternoon prayer time.

Still walking...

Further into Satwa.  There's the Burg, and my new favorite building, the one with the square threaded by the needle.  I stopped for a bottle of water in this area, and the shopkeep told me it was free.  I stared at him, because I was holding an Aquafina (retail 3 Durhams), and he just smiled, wiped his brow and said "you too wet.  Free, friend."  I've never been one to bite that hand that feeds me, so...on I went.

Dubai used to have 60% of the world's operating cranes.  I'm pretty sure that it now has 80% of the inoperative ones.  After I took this picture, a vaguely European-looking woman walked by me with a Siberian Husky.  Really?  A dog that is bred for cold temperatures?  What a retarded and selfish woman.  I hope she dies of heat stroke, and that her dog relieves its thirst in her...nevermind.
Anyway, guess what I did.  Kept on moving it.

The Burg Khalifa caught the the remaining rays of sunlight, and I realized I was 2 hours (by foot) away from home.  And my feet hurt.  And my knees hurt.  And I realized I had nowhere to go to.  So I turned toward the Gulf.

Near the Iranian Hospital, I saw this.  It reminded me of a lot of things, for no particular reason.  But this flower was so well tended, so well protected, so well taken care of. 

Is it wrong to want to be taken care of?  Is it wrong to be saved from a sere landscape?  Is it wrong to believe that flowers can grow from sand?

This open mouth,
this thirst,
this color
demands something.
To be saved.

I was tired of walking after this, so I hailed a taxi, came home and cooked a chicken.  Somehow, that was enough.

emails. From the bottom up.

________________________________________

RE: I Miss You‏

From:	Timothy Smith (toggedout@hotmail.com)
Sent:	Mon 3/01/10 4:32 PM
To:	Mom (welovebabyrosie@yahoo.com)

Hi Dad,

Jennie did tell me about you and Cheryl.  She has some strong feelings about your wedding.  I just hope that you are happy, no matter what.

I know that your church will support you, because they will never be able to get someone who cares about the congregation as much as you do.  So don't worry about them.  As long as you can take care of them, they will be happy.  And plus, they are too old to know the difference, so that's a score for you.  =-)

Dubai is definite because as Jennie and you add onto your families, it necessarily leaves me behind.  Just as when I attempted to add onto mine, I had to leave you.  Because Suffern isn't really my home and because Utica is even less of a home for me, having a stranger in either place (and yes, that's what Cheryl is to me, and I don't foresee any circumstance wherein that will change) means that I no longer have a place to go.  So I have to find somewhere else. 

You don't need to keep any rooms for me, in either place.  You can give away my clothes, but please don't throw away the things I have in Suffern or in Utica.  I'm 35 years old, and those things are the only indicators that I've ever been alive.  That's why I saved them.

I love you Dad.  Over the last year and a half, I've been really mad at you, sometimes I've been really hurt by you.  But recently, after a week or two of reflection, I realize that you have always tried your best.  And I know that I haven't done the same in return.  And I'm sorry for that.

I will come to your wedding if you want me to.  I will stand up with you if you want.  Because I love you.  And I will never stop doing so.

T



Date: Sun, 21 Feb 2010 18:21:58 -0800

 From: welovebabyrosie@yahoo.com

 Subject: I Miss You

 To: toggedout@hotmail.com

 Hi Tim;

 How are you? I sure miss you! I guess you heard from Jennie about Cheryl and I. We got engaged last Sunday. We have set sometime in Sep for a wedding. I am going to try to work something out with the church were I come down 3 days a week and up there 4 days a week. So that way you still have a place here. I am not going to do anything with our house in Utica so you have your room there also. I love you very much. Is staying another year certain? I know you don't have much here, but I still think of it as your home. I hope you have a good wqeek.

 Love Dad 

______________________________________

This is my gesture to my father.  It's not much.  I hope it's enough.

36 confirmed cockroach kills

i only know because i count them
the dessicating legs splayed
the withering antennae drooping
the boric powder still gracing my kitchen counter
after 5 months, i haven't cleaned up the corpses

my bathroom light has been burned out for 3 months
i bought 2 candles
but i never light them
i shower in the dark
i shave in a shadow
and it never occurs to me to change the light

i have sand in my shoes
both pairs of them
it annoys me when i'm wearing either pair
but when i take my shoes off
i forget about the sand
until i put them on again
but by then it's too late

i have clothes in the dryer that have been there
since i left for vacation
socks, shirts, pants
when i came back, i said that i would put them away
i haven't



sometimes i want to save the world
but i  realize that i don't want to save the world
i don't even want to save someone else
i want someone to tell me to change my light
to empty the dryer and my shoes
to clean up the counter
someone who allows me to smile when i'm alone.