Poetry · Writing

with boba

standing- one

no- two hundred people

and where ever we go

i see their faces

dust on my tips traces

of their existence gone in a flash

and all we can do is spend a morning in mass

begging for safe passage

begging for safe travel

for them, right, or

to rid the guilt from those still existing,

those lucky to say i love you one last time,

and across the street, kids are laughing, having chai tea

with boba.

safe passage for an invisible gate keeper

and the steps are boba

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