Moroccan Dreams

Out of the breathing shadows
came a Moroccan prince
dark eyes heating up
the cooling late afternoon
slick black hair
smooth glistening
mocha skin
dressed in a flowing
paprika-colored shirt
and mustard yellow
silk pants

We stood across
a mosaic-tiled
courtyard
speaking with our eyes
the silent words
ricocheting off
the walls
making me feel
a decade younger

He winked and
I grinned

It was then
that I remembered
I was not in
Marrakesh
I was waiting for my
entire family to
get out of the bathroom
at Epcot

And he was
a waiter