They tell me
I write okayish.

I smile and greet them
as the sun greets
the minarets in the desert,
without a purpose.

Why don't you write something on love,
they say,
something about a terrible broken past,
it sells,they love it.
they relate to it.

I tell him,
I don't get the vibes out of it,
love sometimes feels like
eating leftover chips at
a mediocre burger joint.

I prefer watching dogs
playing in the rain.

atleast they never pretend.