Sunday, February 3, 2013

This Empty Street

Do you know that street?

You know, next to those government buildings, red and grey,

Whose blind grimy windows hunched towards that community park.

The state fenced the market and bundled the hawkers off to some glitzy mall.

No one will hear them again, full-throated in the open air,

Nagging, tugging, beseeching, swearing, cursing,

With their thousand tongues

Spiced with the seasons of throngs flooding in from the Square

A billion feathers

There, out there.

Years later I wonder, did you take my steps down that street?

Brush against the cypress, linden, and poplar rows

Where my fingers ran along its eastern wall?

Did you shut your ears against the rioting colors of its tents,

Raise your smile at the rain falling between its roofs, as I had done?

Did your eyes catch its brocaded silks, dance along its smelt daggers,

Glaze over its porcelain?

Did your tongue taste my memory?

Did we pass each other on this street?

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