{It rains on the Sea…outside my window}

You called me and took me out for dinner on a whim.

I’ve never seen you drumming the table with your finger-tips,

with a song playing on your lips. You say your life is great.

You met a man in his forties, who opened his life to you over

many cups of coffee. You are eager to build a script out of it.

The intense kiss you had previous night appeared, somehow,

on the table. I remembered how painfully, foolishly I was in 

love with you. I kissed the windowpane thinking of you, on that

night when you walked away, without leaving a message for me.

I walked many streets, past cheap hotels, popular bars filled with

vibrant laughter and music, talking to myself, building episodes of

monologue on the move, to entertain the defeat burning out my

cheeks and lips. I practiced everyday, with a religious fervor,

how to say no to myself, how to walk with unflinching resolve

in my gaze, across the evenings resounding with the gaiety

of romantic expeditions by the hearts, and how to watch

the inner darkness falling over everything. That dream of mine,

for once, to sleep with you, on a summer afternoon, in a forest,

where no one could hear us, tasted the harsh winds of ignorance,

for long, and now stands like an abandoned town. I am seeing

not you talking happily about the vacation you took last month,

but something that lived between us, that died holding me tight.   



I do not know how to explain my silence to you now. 

{An old house that I watch everyday on my way to work}


The front of my head is extravagantly happy and cheerful. My hands are cold, could be due to the air that’s between us lying meaningless and cold. The kind of things that go on there, on my head, with a sense of certainity, most times, leaves me silent.  {My companion, besides books, the Mediterranean doll, a gift from Munny, has a name Baka  🙂