waiting for a signature

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We slump,
cracks in the cumin seed siding
outside the police station,
stale air suffocates the sun
as it sinks below
a creek and a trash heap

visa papers
clutched like the cloak of God,
a 100 rupee note crumbled in your jean pocket -
just in case.
is it a crime to expect the worst
in spite of order?

blazing dry heat smothers our lungs,
we resemble
shrunken palm leaves
held only by the stone above us.

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