Farrah Sarafa

Bodies like big bags of sand
others lean like rubber band.
   Does she speak, move so fast
    because she is small?

Rejection spelled sharp,
only the hungry play harp.
   Does he jerk his head fast
     because I am tall?

Insecure, troubled hall
in Madrid where many fall
   becoming stale, obese
     unable to piece

together joy, they yearn.
Mediuming my concern
   magazine “beauty-shoulds”
      sweet (compliment) “coulds.”

Worries burn one by one,
beneath the hot Spanish sun.
    Endless hungers made wise
      by desire in disguise.