The night fattens and so do our truths. They have been arranged to be served to me à la carte. By the card, all the cards. And, no garnishes. No dressings. Just the plain raw meat. —kaazi hove turat milau ik pal ki he talaash mein. What does it mean? S says, all guitar andContinue reading “summarily,”
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bad tuned (in)
I squint like the hostel cat I book a bike thrice The hour is too grainy Neighborhood some dull demise You won’t stop calling Your iron will is forged I call a cab to see you My purse is fucking scorched Once full of writer’s woes Quiet rum, high music, and lows The night hasContinue reading “bad tuned (in)”
c’est la vie
The first time I noticed you, nothing felt sunnier about it all than your teeth. A smoker’s smile. You pulled your bike over and yanked your helmet off, revealing a fallen flag of hair crumpled with sweat. I didn’t look directly in your eyes. Until followed a hey, a particularly insistent signpost to the yetContinue reading “c’est la vie”
500 days of bummer
I really like your room. He says, while placing the skinny monitor on G’s desk. Must be the lighting. It really does everything. Just the right mix of yellow and white. I shift the cigarette between my fingers. It’s just a butt now. He rather attributes the fascination to the chalkboard and the window aloeContinue reading “500 days of bummer”
chief thrills
In the morning I wake up with the stench of mangled cabbages rising up the back of my throat and a nicotine-sullied breath and a tousled head rested obliquely upon his spindly chest and he is asleep on his back quiet like an untouched doorknob. I feel queasy. Like my stomach is staging some mutinyContinue reading “chief thrills”
relics from a romance
2:15 AM. I am thinning out a brick of butter into a pan, waiting for you to intervene and scoop out another cube. Only that you are in my inbox slipping me bad puns and dad jokes. I wonder if what we share also began like this. Some runny pancake batter, given carte blanche overContinue reading “relics from a romance”