We Are Who We Are

##   How the wedding day, had two shifts, We danced in both. In the dayshift To a Christina Perri number, That, the first and only dance, And the other, to the silence of The night. The little we knew, about The dance moves, the choreography, And still we did something That night. How when…

6 AM in Our Kitchen

The red apple on the pantry, The Nutella spread, The music from Gold FM Hits from the 90s on the radio. The knife that cuts bread, The spoon that mixes the curry A fly that snuck in, Feeding on the thrown waste, My wife, looking inviting, In a pair of skimpy shorts, As my eyes…

The Woman I Love

The basin between hipbones, Her fertile crescent. The emphasis On language, the grammar lesson She throws at you, my wife, the English teacher. How one woman, taught me How to pronounce Gaia, as Gaya, While walking aimlessly inside a park one day. How she reads herself to sleep, The lullaby serenading her cones and rods,…

The Honeymoon Stage

  [ How I was a nervous wreck on my honeymoon, knowing the whole world was watching (listening to the commentary of my life) and still I managed to lose my virginity at 38 and consummate. They say the longer you wait, the colder the feet become ] ## The stage, that agonized me, And…

A Thing or Two about Boots

I love a woman in boots, Red boots to be precise. And I wonder if my wife Has ever worn a pair of high heeled crimson boots To a party or a night club, Before she met me. Boots make you, one of the following Personalities; cowgirl, farm girl, Or a lass with a good…

When In Spain

Everyone knows bulls have horns, And they don’t like the color red, The matadors in Spain have found Out the hard way, how messy bulls are, Spreading human guts and testicles On the floor of an amphitheater, And there is a little can, that says “Red Bull gives you wings”, Perhaps a little mojo, that…

2018

The hour is nigh. The cuckoo jumps out From a wooden clock, and makes merry.  I too jump out of bed, hoping That this year, would be a little cuckoo, Madder than I ever imagine, Like that toy wound in the back, That goes speeding on The polished floor, or maybe a hummingbird Whose wing-speed…

Pasta

Pasta comes in all shapes and sizes, But spaghetti is always A long stretch of flour, that unlike A straw fails to keep the shape. Penne makes diagonals, while Raviolli is stuffed. And yet nothing beats the farfalle The little butterflies that creep through the throat To make a bout of hunger disappear. Pasta is…

Yesteryear’s Hibiscuses

Memories, like dried petals Of hibiscuses inside pages of a book Preserved in layers of myelin And when the book is opened time to time You could see the petals of yesteryear, the pollinators That perched on the nectar trails And the pollen they all carried Still look love, you’re here with me, The flower…