Saturday, November 30, 2013

The ghost and the woman:

1. I pull the curtains to see the snow all around the parking lot
but do not register the beauty only the white coldness of those eyes
I do not call that telephone number in new alipore, 
I haven't for the last three months and seventeen days, 
I would not try and salvage or reason whatever it was 
I would sip this coffee and look out at the snow as slowly as possible 
and let the eternity hang in there 
I would not close my eyes in a moment of lazy helplessness 
for then I might see the pierced nostrils, the slight lines underneath those eyes, 
the jaw that refuses to be anything but an isosceles triangle 
I avoid her existence until it wraps over mine like a ghost
and I hear her hum 'top of the world' in that broken south calcutta-south delhi accent 
(if that is possible)

2. looking around in this seventeen by thirteen studio room 
at the shelf and cup boards, 
the smell of polished mahogany and leftover strawberry yogurt 
I can see that everything is in exactly the place, just not me.
But that I console myself (is just an existential crisis) 

(...) And I recall the details of that last trip to digha, 
the evening sun, the beach, the faraway temple noises and people, 
those palms were the smallest set of magic ever seen, and those tangerine lips 
how she would prod me to read Lewis Carroll and I wouldn't 
because I loved her annoyingly sexy nagging voice
that I could smell all my seasons in her body
like my soul is the ransom that I pay now, for my sanity

underneath the girl-woman who wanted to talk of nothing but how McCartney was a better singer than John, 
that there was a relative difference between how metamorphosis and amerika were written
that dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum was not redectio ad absurdium
and that I wrote my best on winter nights and looked better with a two day beard
beneath all that was a twenty three year old girl in love with me 
or so I would like to think

3. that life runs its course 
and you plan not, what you live 
that kohl lit eyes shine brighter than the stars 
inside hearts, 
that I am reading through the looking glass 
that coffee mug was her gift, 
that 7 minutes worth of thoughts equate to 7 years of memories

someone, 29, 5'10", software engineer,
with an Amin Sayani voice is taking his vows
to love her more than I ever did

and the snow beyond me, the sky above me
the heart inside me jog along
totally nonchalant of what I feel

..everything will be alright, after all..

No comments: