1001 nights wouldn't be enough

I am lazy and content

like the smoke of my nargeileh

curling, unfurling above me

in the corner of an

equally sleepy cafe

it is 9pm

on a thursday night

Beirut awaking

ready for the night ahead

Fairuz sang eternally

“I love you in summer

I love you in winter”

and I decide then

I will love this city always

there is a breeze

coming off the sea

over the heads of

people walking on the Corniche

somewhere in Hamra

a baby cries as his mother 

holds him in her arms on their

balcony, watching the cars below

elsewhere in Gemmayze

the restaurants are filling up

cocktails being poured

new shiny cars opening

with twenty-somethings spilling out

and everywhere there hangs

a feeling of possibility

of plans and meetings and dates

of old friends

and new friends waiting to be met

and yet over me

hangs a different feeling

a sinking kind of dread

to soon leave this place

and return to somewhere

that possesses 

no feelings at all