No place is alien
When I am kept on wait...
By you in parks...foodstalls or lanes...
Thus by my mere wait
I came to know straight
When the movie hall opens its gate...
Which tuberail runs whence a few minutes late...
Which street bends where to a tree meet
A flower shop or a bookstore stands on which street...
In which route the tram car runs with desire
Painted on its red facade bare...
On which pavement a singer collects coins flipped on his hat...
Which street sells love at a discount- twenty percent flat...
Where does Katheryn Bolkovac pinned
And burst the myth of human trafficking...
Which building has a rooftop bar
Where the sun light before death leaves a pinkish scar...
Where does the balloonist every evening stand...
Where under artificial rain lonely hearts dance...
No place is alien for me...
By waiting for you the whole world I see...
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