There’s something I like
About the nights in my country.
Stray dogs ruled the streets.
Dedicating their lives, nostrils, four legs,
To inspecting every measure of the streets, for manje
Light bulbs on the porches revealing
The secretly yellow, green lizards
Hunting for insects that never run out.
Cars parked half their body on the sidewalk
Leaving space for humans to drive their legs
On the streets. In the middle of the night.
Watchmen, women lurking on the balconies;
Gossiping whatever happened; never happened
While the hot chilly wind blows, and blows,
In the quietest, peaceful sound.
There’s something I love
About the nights in my country:
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