Climbing the hills
Is never easy for the 1000 cc
Engine of a Suzuki Swift.
And in that cold night
I climbed the ascent that is my wife,
Slowly like the Hanthana hill,
The pines caressed by the northward wind
Whispering forget-me-nots,
While I hung onto her like a gluttonous leech
Sucking every drop of passion out of her,
Until we came down like a lightning flash.
We looked out of the window of a room
In the Queens hotel, to see jaywalkers
Scampering about hustling precious time,
Like the venomous brown ants do
All around Sri Lanka.
While we let the surrounding lull
Of a thick-bricked hotel room
Blanket us, like the pine-hills
Enwrap a dainty town inside of her
Almost like an expectant mother
Wraps her unborn fetus.
