Moroccan mist – May 2024

Moroccan mist evaporates away
From all the dusty hash that filled our lungs
An offer Flo a coffee kind of day
Afloat but crooked, far from ferry’s strait.

We’d rather stop for cars and caravans
We waited wafting in the evening gas
To every city vite-fait brined in wine
For Tim as well who kept the rhythm’s beat.

Till Basque I surfed to take the solo lead
Far from the hold of Silvio’s belay
Without a name I spun that game of chance
And downed those drunken sips of Leah’s sweet.