Even in Marrakesh we still have to decide

What morning is. During the night people

We hadn’t even met whispered in our ears

Thoughts that would have changed our lives,

Might have, if we had heard them earlier.

So the dreamer never gives up. He’s come

Across the desert, ignoring the sun.

He’s waited for night. Down in the patio

Dawn has drawn the hotel cats away

From their place under the folding chairs.

A cat drinks from the pool—its long

Black tail points toward the desert.