Street Mirage


A camel is walking down the street
and walks and walks,
she knows a lazuline oasis at the end of it:
so many green and purple grapes.
The gritty distance is ajar,
remembering the songs of waves
and still so blue and still so far.
A golden evening is falling on her traces.
The shadow of a camel in such places
needs just a short step on the sand –
the first, the last
and the mirage she entered passed.


Author: Monica Manolachi