The Children of Kashgar

They run amok
These unwashed ragamuffins
My mother would say
But they are happy

Happy and curious
Enthralled with
The foreigner
And his camera

Unattended
In masses
Or twos or threes
Or alone

With the run of the city
They gather and cavort
In the urban streets
On the sidewalks

Wherever there is space
To play
To laugh, and to giggle
To learn and get dirty

These children of Kashgar