Giants in Hell, was the exact look on that beggars face. <br />I walked and walked, back and forth passed back alleys, bars and ruins of Coptic churches. People at the bars were dancing to fill a void, a perfect way to hide, in their voodoo dance trance <br />Frame by frame, incorruptible Saturday night dancer. <br /> <br />Twelve years ago today, my car crash, blood everywhere. <br />The car crash that defined me, a near life experience, perfect balance of adrenaline, middle class ideas, baptism of fire, invincible that weekend. <br />Every now and then I taste the zinc, petrol's, blood plastics in my mouth. <br />Absolute panic, all before breakfast. <br /> <br />Caves and coves, blind hands touch me in a crowd, Marrakech King Cobra darts and spits at me, I show no fear, and locals respect this. Everything a big cryptic oriental niche code. I hold a little child who cries, my granddad contacts me through a strangers smile. <br />Police rifle through my windbreaker, and take me in for questioning. <br /> <br />All rights reserved to Chris Tyrimos<br /><br />Chris Tyrimos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-night-in-tangiers/
