Love Portugese

In your long absence – 4 days in total,
One half of my bed looks like a temple
Waiting for you, its pilgrim,

While the calcium strappings
I call my bones, become restless
On this rust-colored September night

Longing like the Arabian sirocco
Combs the sandy dunes,
The tummy-tires of a fat man,

While the body whispers lustful truths
As the mind entertains fantasies
And the mouth, like a dried up well,

Looks for the bucket to draw something
From the bottom, even a green pellicle of moss.
I’m just as frightening, as the loneliness

That makes your cracks open
Like lips of a gold fish, in a tank room,
Wondering why everyone calls me “gold”.

When I’m orange all over, waiting to start
An adventure; with a woman that you can forensically
Proof read with your lip-prints

You have by now learnt her song
That sounds different each day. When you realize, a woman is
Nothing like a moss-covered stone

Always moving from here to there
Evolution toying with everything,
Like how her lips can on somedays

Make the milkman come to the doorstep,
Like a Venus Fly trap engulfing all of you,
And yet, somedays she is like the moon

A satellite too far away, when she will get
Cross at you, for the simplest deed, when her
Systems are in full-flow, stuck inside her own period.

And yet the best day, is when
She will let her tongue educate you
On how her day has been, at work,

When you’re just as rich as the lexicon.
When you don’t need love poems in flesh,
Just the apple of your eye fast becoming,

The euphony of your ear. When
Mouths are recuperating from covalent chemistries,
When you make an art form, stay,

Like when you talk about how her skin
Looks less-than flawless today, or what scientific
Adventure my students had on that day,

And this to and fro science of throwing serial words
Into meaningful pacts, has become
An enriching experience

And who in the right mind would
Adulterate this, with love making, when the flow of words
Sinks in deeper than any anatomical device can

Wasn’t sex invented before language in the evolutionary
Scheme of things? …..As I look at my wife, my parrot,
Whose vocabulary means more to me,

Than any exotic snack – or vise-versa -,
I’m more apple than an asparagus stick, and what else
But dialogue can make me gaze at her

Like I’m the luckiest man in the world.
As I look at two people, cuddled into one. I can’t stop pondering
How beautiful it is, to be able to juggle words mouth to mouth

Than entertaining them, on mattresses made of memory foam.
How endearing to be afloat in conversation, learning that,
Time too, in essence, can be as beautifully innocuous, as love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.