12:03, in front of great stone
soldiers and sailors,
cars go round and round.
A group of ten people stand
together, at the steps of the gray,
limestone tower, over a hundred years old.
Most of them hold white signs,
with simple block text:
PRAY FOR DARFUR 1 PM.
A few cars honk or wave,
most passersby on foot pick up
their pace, drop heads.
At 12:04, one couple walks up,
in their sixties,
still holding hands,
asks a sunglassed college girl,
holding a sign,
“Who is Darfur?”
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