If only India weren't
so far away
so I could touch
the yellow streets
the orange, the red
the muddy water
(the print of
an elephant)
where I could hide
in tall grasses
by deadly snakes
and wait to be
pinned by a
tiger
the orange, the red.

A temple where i can't
even remember your
name
because all I
hear is Hindi.

where all my problems
would be solved, alas,

a cup of tea
my feet stained brown
the orange, the red.
I'd never wash the jungle
off my hands.