Not all loves are hated

only those that seemed to bring
carts of watermelons, trucks with melons,
donkeys loaded with medicinal herbs.
And one, leaning on the door frame,
in flip-flops and leather, was happily scratching
his armpits and his mouth was watering.
These are the loves that are hated,
those that came with a loaf of bread under their arm,
a loaf of bread! For the toothless and the hungry!
But alas
when the caravan of camels
passes by,
one stops smiling and wraps up to the neck.
Because in hatred it is very cold.
And deserts often miss the rain.