Bamboo shoots, cooked in oil,
we munched were delicious. The tender love,
we shared, in our sojourn, in the lodge
deep inside the forest, had complemented it.
She was a playful tigress, transformed
by the atmosphere, with a manifested ****** interest,
different from her usual demure self.
One thing led to another, we fed each other,
heady vintage wine, from our mouths,
till we found out, in such circumstances,
love would make us do things,
we never imagined we could.

The sketch she made depicting us,
as two wild elephants, in musth*
rummaging the bamboo grove,
eating shoots to our fill,
reminded *Shiva and Parvathi, his consort,
taking the form of elephants
indulging  in every possible play amorous,
culminating in the birth of Ganesha,
the cute God, elephant faced,
the remover of obstacles.

Love drunk the song  we both sung,
was one of innocence.
The booming wind in bamboo leaves,
suddenly changed tune, sounding like ankle bells.
Dense, dark, green womb of forest
and the flow of wind above, like a blood stream,
kindled the prenatal memories, from deep down,
and as the background score,
cacophony of unknown birds of many feathers.

We swam in the lukewarm water,
of a day so different, with joyous abandon.
A voice mysterious, spoke in my blood stream:
"Be like birds, wind on bamboo grove, elephants seeking what they want,
the love you share would bring, fantastic results,
the world, would look far more simple,
life and death cease to be riddles, just natural,
shadows vanish, no fear remains in deep caves,
everything gently flows, like a clear river to the ocean"

My eyelids fall heavy upon my vacant eyes,
The dull pulsing of the harsh, artificial light
Throbs and shrugs up against my temples,
Running down onto the creases beneath my brow.
Last nights dreams lay stagnant beneath
My troubled mind- like lukewarm coffee,
The cream beginning to lump and curdle together.
I'm destined for this kind of solitude, I think.
My mind races and whirls off course,
Speeding straight past the acute turn,
Destructively hurdling into a thick pool of
Yesterday. Is this how it feels to be alive?
A stale taste of tap water and broccoli slowly
Rises up into my lungs, creating a subtle
Discomfort, too faint to be washed away by water.
I can feel the uneven rise and fall of my hollow chest,
As if it is set off balance by the absence of my red,
Pulsing heart. Something is off here.
Gradually, my body surrenders to the ruthless
Shadows of my conflicted soul.
Sinking in to the starch white sheets, all that is
Collapses into misplaced yeast and water daydreams
That only come out at night.

I think of boyfriends as
Sandwiches.

I don't share my sandwiches,
They're for me and no one else.
Apparently some people,
Think they can take them for themselves.

If you had a sandwich,
You'd think the same way.
I'd just get my own
Sandwich in a day.

When I have a sandwich,
I expect you
To do the same, too.

You may like this sandwich.
Hell, it might even be your favorite kind.
That doesn't mean you can go and
EAT MINE.

I have spent more time,
in my pajamas than I would like to admit.
But I have spent more time,
missing you from our bed.

Something about yellow plaid and a white T,
that sends me over the moon
and landing amongst the stars.

Because you hold me up to a fame
that even Lucy in the sky with those diamonds
would be jealous of.

I will listen to you all day and never
ask you to pause, rewind,
or skip to the next song.

I have spent more time
in my pajamas than I would like to admit
But I would rather be asleep forever,
than awake and not dreaming with you.