I think of that time
You took me out to dinner.
But tonight,
The pavement, slick with rain,
Shines brighter than my shoes.
I don’t remember
How bright that night was.
But tonight,
The moon behind a cloud,
Just streetlights at my door.
I don’t hear you
Discuss your workday anymore.
But tonight,
Noises by my window,
Formless faces passing by:
Talking, laughing.
Faceless and numberless:
In all those years since dinner time –
The millions who have died of famine,
And war,
And earthquakes,
And too much rain . . .
Yes, there is pain, still,
A hunger streetlights cannot see.
But that matters less
With each war, with each monsoon.
With no moon at my window
You cannot see while I prepare
This microwave meal.
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