Stray

I'm walking down the street,
gathering my stray thoughts.

The pack of dogs is not following me tonight.
They are lying in the church under the candlelit dome and sleeping.

I think: How beautiful this road that leads me home.
The balconies,
the windows and the doors,
the fragrant smells of food that penetrate the mud brick walls
and find me on these lonely streets.

I try to peer through windows and curtains
to feel my neighbours' lives.

In arrogance of love I question their reality
and think: have these people ever really lived.

I think of you
and like a little tea candle I flicker and I shiver
and I melt into a puddle of human flesh,
with a beating heart still pounding on the dirty, cobbled pavement.

I pick myself up from the ground and hurry home before the
neighbours glance out their low windows
and see my sorry state.

The evening light is drowned in yellow
from the street lamps

and I walk through gold to reach my house.

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