A Barcode ScannerTent block, then muddy street, then tent blockIn the beginning there was the number and the number      became a price tag stuck to usThe number made our selection easier from afar, no need      to pointThen the earth became a radio with an eternal battery,      no broadcast station, and no stop to the disruptionMuddy street, then tent block, then muddy streetWe raise ourselves on the hatred of death and the love of the      deadWe raise ourselves on the love of life and the hatred of the      living!The crazy nobody is singing while teenagers chase him,      trying to strip off his pajamasTent block, then muddy street, then tent blockThe IDP is a zebra in a fenced-in wildernessBrowsing the statuses of a closed Facebook groupMuddy street, then tent block, then muddy streetMay your eyes cloud over and the peacock’s corpse become      your eyepatch, deviant pirateThe prayer of hungry mothers, boiling boredom for their      children, who snore through midday in every tentTent block, then muddy street, then tent blockWho introduces the IDPs to sunrise?Who convinces them that the sun serves any purpose but      heat?Muddy street, then tent block, then muddy streetThe wind in your tent is just an ascetic Sufi mocking you with      each whirlTent block, then muddy street, then tent blockWith his ration card held tight in his extended handThe IDP walks along the streets searchingLike a mine detectorMuddy street, then tent block, then muddy streetA tomato vendor: If only there were a tomato festival, so that      people could learn to associate the color red with      something elseTent block, muddy street, then tent blockAn onion vendor: Long live life!An eggplant vendor: Ha ha ha!Tent block, then muddy street, then tent blockLife in the camp is encrypted despair, but the IDPs are not      hackersMuddy street, then tent block, then muddy streetTent block, then muddy street, then tent blockMuddy street, then tent block, then muddy streetERRORERRORERRORDear consumer—Could not identify the producer of war! Life from AfarWith two emoji hearts we loved each otherWith two pictures we proved our empty presenceWith two steps backwards we got closerWith two keyboards we thumbed a bed and poked the darkWith two calls we befriended silence and learned to groanWith two lips that kissed nothing but their pair on the screen      we locked in a virtual embraceWith two orgasms separated only by a sperm’s suicide we      broke like a waveWith two fucks from afar we bore a dollWith two mutual lies the three of us are now a happy familyAnd every day you are the army that kills meI’m the last sparrow on the world’s tree