Transit II
Night in the tropical warmth that speaks home to my rootless soul. Two flights in short sequence arrival for once.
A reinforced dam broke, brittle through constant erosion of grey particles burning onto its brushed cement surface. Nehru's constitution a constant fight for territory, progress undone in a single stroke. Memories flood a dry river bed plentiful and the ground between the pebbles absorbs it thirstyly.
A small plane, empty seats, 4F, nothing outside but a sunset in the far west, molten stone poured over a metal surface slowly cooling down, then a titans' fight between earth a black solid and space a black void. I sit there and still think of nothing else but your smile over a cup of coffee in the morning.
A magical meeting between palm trees and weak beer from small brown bottles on an aluminium disc, intimacy too close grasp, too real to neglect. Cues misleading enough to be evident, a sketch on thin transparent paper with wrinkles. Black lines drawn on the tray table that folds easily.
Papaya breakfast in front of diamond jaali and lush shadow on dusty white paint, desert red stains.
Music from the radio, a call on bumpy roads, the jeep's wheels spin in potholes, melodies like syrup flood the cabin in front of the windshield and drown my thoughts in the afternoon sun. We drive tacitly, an understanding, your hand on my leg and the road to and from the asphalt airport.
Colonial habits etched in dissolved acid clay.
Softest skin under my fingertips, warm like the blood below, and cool like the floor tiles. Mute and dear we walk alongside on the curb. The maze of the bazaar a mad layout of narrow lanes covered by plastic tarpaulin. The vulgar smell of a line of silver fish bellies and heads with locked jaws full of pointy teeth reminds me of morning on a rough quay in Kolaba. Men auctioning produce by the K-G, a block of hard wood and a double sided blade in a bucket full of blood and water.
Next to you driving never to reach and a hand on my leg. Through the open window thick darkness and cloudless dust trickles on my knees and I am still happy. Tension and confusion intertwined. Next to you on a bed though thinking about you.