Here lies the quintessential Moroccan night.

Sky at midnight still faintly lit,

a cool breeze ruffles my sweater

and blows the smoke from my lips.

Sounds mix and collaborate:

Darija, music, cars, and bubbling hookah.

A casual crowding of lawn chairs

on the roof of this apartment

teenagers escaping stillness

finding satisfaction in relaxation

the allure of the drugs forbidden but abundant

bringing together friends and strangers

to embrace the spectacular normality,

rebellion and casual disregard for rules,

a staple of growing up and study abroad alike.

We say goodnight and good morning

through the apple-scented haze

and wave our worries away.