The Waiter and the Tourist in Turkey
The waiter in Kalkan
at a café overlooking the sea,
the Mediterranean
to be precise
and a touch particular,
the waiter asks,
pointing to my diary,
What you do in book?
I show writing
and the Blue Mosque
quickly sketched in Istanbul.
Ah, he says. Artist. He was kind.
I go to art school for one year.
You know caricatures? I like.
Will you draw in my book?
No. No. It does not always work.
We talk. We know this language.
Images, words will not always come
when sought
but may appear unasked,
when so happy or sad or alone in your head.
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