hold rustling barley
that prays for the rain to wait
black top
heat radiating
screech of brakes leaves a muffler in the intersection
all has become chaos
the snicker of the francolin brightens up the morning
foretells the coming sun
and still no rain on the horizon
traffic jam
constant horns
the gas station takes half our salary
all has been forgotten
and now i stand
stuck between barley fields and parking lots
joy and loss
the real world and the dream
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