It's 42 Degree Centigrade. The moon
shines hotly in Dammam.
Indians and Filipinos bathe
in soak of sweats.
Grinding their teeth
of desolation and contemplation.
One thought of going
the other is still
In dilemma of decision.
It is forty degree centigrade
Scorching heat everywhere
Tap Water almost boils
Heatwaves in the air
The leaves on the roadside
Have withered to sickly brown
Fewer people on the roads
Hot summer day in the town
Only people who rejoice
Are sherbet vendors in the streets
Chilled fruit-drinks they sell
Under cheap plastic sheets
And there is another group
Who enjoy their game every whit
They are the young children
Whether they win or lose it
From the very morning
They have played soccer
In almost empty pavement
In terrible heat a shocker
Now they are exhausted
Need plenty of water to bathe
In water supply at their home
They haven't much faith
Innovative in whatever they do
Now they open a hydrant pipe
Water gushes out in speed
Soon the issue is a hype
To their heart's content they
Lavish themselves with water
Splashing sound of hydrant flow
Mingles with the booming laughter
People come out of office buildings
At the excitement of the day
Smile and say to one another
‘Didn't we play the same way’
September 7, 2017
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