Remembering Kamala

I have seen you Kamala, I do not know where.

Maybe in those women,

Who cover their face while they walk causally out of the durga in O.TC road.

I have seen you in some glass cage,

On the cover of a book.

I have seen you in the eyes of a girl who pinched my bare chest.

I have seen you in lost in Neelambari Raga.

I have seen you in women who wear glass bangles.

Red and brown. Black my favorite.

In the craving for love I have seen you. I have touched you.

In Kanyakumari I have seen you. Marveling the horizon.

Just like me, wondering about dreams of the flowers that bloom by dawn.

I have seen you Kamala in a language. The one in which you dreamed.

I was there when the sparrow died in your room.

I have seen you in the warmth of a thigh.

Profound were those moments.

I have preserved them in them in a history house.

Inside a ceramic pot.

The Caretaker

When despair starts running homeward,
Do not worry.
I will be at your side. With sweet cow dung taste.
I will take care of you for a night,
will take you for a ride.
When the city sleeps together we will have neon colored dreams,
Or white.
Do not worry dear, the moment you put me to your lips,
I will burn for you. Like an incense stick giving peace to a yogi.
Nothing would touch you other than your beautiful hands.
Faliure would be the new rejoice.

I will be there.