Strangeness
Aug 27, 2017 · 1 min read
“Bartender,” I said —
“No rum,” he said.
Wondering, “A pencil?”
I repeated my request silently,
motioning in mime:
for I had seen
strange faces.
— I look,
and the faces
I have never seen before
are not so strange
they are something else altogether.
— And this was Colombo,
city of a million
faces,
more or less.


