In The Complete Vastness Of Night

The way she stands, motionless.
The way she looks down the street,
always waiting for someone.

One eye in poverty
another in paradise
she stands

with ominous visions
of empty-handed destinations

of chipped paint, its colors faded
like youth, in a mountain village
where the brutality of a 36 year war
is a world apart from the dialects
spoken in the black black night.

When I look away she is gone
just as fast, and I am the one
looking for someone.