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MasikaniCrocodile
Poems
Feb 2013
Congo
Crowds of weary people
shuffle from life to life
in the bellies of subways
claws of escalators
past booths of seven-dollar coffees
taking off shoes and jackets
as a voice in the roof says that
the flight to Mumbai,
or wherever, is now boarding.
All of it disappears
because--after these many years--
your face
(I shrug off
my backpack)
your voice
in my ears
Written by
MasikaniCrocodile
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