Yesterday I shared a cab with a priestwho said it was a fine day to ride cross town
If you leaned overthe peeling window ledge,one tower of Notre Dame
That hazy, faintly discernible glow,already half erased,lodged in the corners of the night
“We always kicked for the same team. We prayednext to each other on the sajjada during salat.
“As you can see the camps are overpopulated,and the small parts in between, if somebodyvanishes, getting to them is like a reunion date
Over a tundra of red sand they arrive eager as stadiumfans, with laundry-like sacks and bags, separated into queues: