Day 76 of 100 Poems/100 Days

The Blue Line

Five cars down,
at the end of the tram,
sunset, Ramadan, empty;
even the ticket man gone to home, napping.

The snake moves with no driver,
just me, my head out the window,
and we move through the city,
away and underneath –

Back to Moustapha Kamal,
to its bedroom,
inside its dark tomb,
I keep the machine company,
and I keep the machine believing.

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2 thoughts on “Day 76 of 100 Poems/100 Days

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