Scouring dusk

 The winding alleys 
The inner bellies
Of the long ever extending serpents
roofless courtyards

cobblestone paths
often giving away rune like cracks and gaps
five story buildings for local merchants
to eat drink and congregate at the end of the day

Above the walls and clustered cottages
The land is still absorbing the sky
as children being raised
open alleys and patios

exposing the seminight
talking down to us as we get lost
knocking on certain doors
just to get our bearings

We finally come to a small door
light blue woodpaint with a small dark steel ball
for a door handle
Leading into another labrynth of houses

Relatives leave their front door
inviting their Children to join
Even dusk suggests they join
oh how the young forget their heavy refusals

Insisting on their course of action
following their quirky confusion
leading them into precarity
further into lack and excess

further into the tangle of emotion
when the elders are already feasting
and making merry to the warm glow
of tree lights hanging above their tables

Parents no longer need the stars to find their way
They have maps written painfully along 
the widest tubes of their heart
Their smiles and advice surge in perfect time

Unable to sense the perplexity in us
Yet their expressions cool the hottest anguish