The beak
of the bird in the jackfruit tree near the factory
points toward the hibiscus
by the gate.

Though the gate’s bars
the child, Aman, watches a girl throw
her yellow dupatta over her shoulder.
Although unable to describe it
the movement’s gracefulness makes him laugh.

Down the lane
the prostitute standing in her doorway
eats a mint leaf.
A friendly woman, she gives
her large eyes free of charge to the world
while 2 dogs walk past
side by side toward Pipeline Rd.

“Salaam Aleichem,” I say to Asma, fat
and recently divorced, as she
walks through the gate.

“Aleichem Salaam, Uncle,” she smiles
shyly back.

Allah observes all this from a distance, letting
the world evolve on its own.