Dreams that, decades later, back at my hotel in Fez,A bucket of cold water was suddenly poured on.I'd gone to the hammam, stripped, and lay on a patternOf sopping tiles that might have spelled God's will.Steam shrouded the attendant methodically soapingThe knots of disappointment he'd knuckled in my back.He paused.
The cold water gave a jolting shock as it hit the skin.