navigating quarters of the old city

under the arches
of the quarter
of shadows,
you lead us below
a blanket of
waving scarves
and weaved a careful path
past men leaning
against walls
with one knee bent,
and a foot pressed to the stones
(placed here 2,000 years ago,
you mumble)
and arms crossed,
perhaps ominously.
minutes before,
a sea of black suits
ruled from their wall,
but now the black hats
scamper through the alley
silently,
and in between your greens with guns
you sneak your hand up to scratch your head,
and slip off your yamaka.

DLS