With the Spanish women
I go into the souq
At night.

From stall to stall
We go
In search of the bargain
Of our lives.

Shouting,
We change the price
From Dollars
To Dirham;
Then Dirham
To Deutchmarks
To Francs and Pesetas,
A circular path
Back to Dollars again,
Currency interpreting
The game of the bargain.

At some stalls
We are las mujeres mas hermosas,
Young and lithe.
Shopkeepers exhibit
Our fair looks, mesdame,
In brass mirrors
For sale.

If we do not buy,
We are las mujeres mas feas,
Hags with misshapen noses,
Scraggly hair.
Arab shopkeepers shout
That our shameful offers
Are worse than those of Berbers.
The Berbers cry,
“You must be Arabs.”

The Spanish women
Have parcels and bags
Filled to overflowing.

The shopkeepers
Have pockets full of money.

For a moment
Behind the stalls
And in the narrow street,
We stop.
We all observe each other.

None of us
Can stop
Laughing.