little Isloo poo
these are the hangars,
the airforce things, and these,
houses.
this is pindi, the roads curve,
go everywhichway
someone in that box is hearing my plane take off,
being stirred from sleep.
a congregation of lorries,
or buses, could it be the
Daewoo place?
this is your Layyeh. the
nala running through. what
happens to all the houses around you, when you
flood?
and here you have a
pool, the water crystal clear for me
peering from above. you, swimmer, have
no privacy.
that I am talking to you?)
your roads are getting
straighter, boxed,
this must be you, then,
Isloo. unmistakably neat, and cars crawling along.
but this, i don't recognize.
some electric pole, an
unfamiliar curve of a road,
a landmark that just looks different from above.
behind the thin cover of cloud.
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