it’s “drought-full” she says,
my japanese friend –
as though it were “dreadful”
which it is, dreadful
the five-year drought
i hunger for rain

drought-full, she says again
pensive, as we stroll B Street
in search of a café, a mojito
sugar, mint, caffeine, ice!

a black gentleman passes
with a nod at her he says
. . . . .Nǐ Hǎo
shizuko keeps walking,
. . . . .says nothing
the man looks puzzled, a bit hurt
he’d meant a courtesy,
greeting her in chinese,
i stop, rest my hand on his arm
“she’s japanese,” i say
by way of explantion,
he smiles then, and
on we walk, shizuko and me
on this hot drought-full day
seeking relief in a mojito

© 2015, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved