No, it didn’t happen in classrooms Of syllabus and assignments. But Somewhere amid the iron rusty Windows Of 28-rupee bus tickets From yellowed Platform signs. All from (Kayankulam to Cantonment) No, not the gust, but visits a florid Breeze after 6 over my garnered age. Sliding beneath her gold embroidered curtains, under the ashen newspaper Speaking of potholes and crows. How you commute in colored notes (Adoor to Adoor) from district to the next is unfamiliar. Surely, spicy how it rolls from me Tongue to hers/his/theirs. Carried on To the red slits on their skin. Fleshed. Pages, the her-story of breasted warriors, with ease. You slip off the sky’s night gown. On the same earth hurried kings, Queens, and ivory throned British malice. (Adoor to Thiruvananthapuram) Exiting from a throbbing earthen stilt kindness, a dry sandy footstep. From your children’s 44 rivers, where song and dance, clamored from the shore. Must be that glued pride, divine of your esteemed royalty (Periyar, Achenkovil) Perhaps a brown rattlesnake, you slither into all riding on health magazines, pamphlets and late news debates. In hymns of praise and folded envelopes of austerity from the rain dren- ched postbox. Like drizzle at night from a cup. And if you were a spirit, you swim about in the death of fishes in cat mouths begging around with crows in busy smelly harbors, stray dogs with their tongues out flicking ripened mango ( Aluva Central Stn. To Thiruvalla) pickles on railroad tracks packed with rice and Coconut milk. Children of mammal and mamma fighting out for A leaf foiled bundle or rise and rotten fish. You and I We share a familiar vision of spring Bedding an acid sting like memory (Kottayam toThrissur) Of raw plantains in mouth. Coconut oil On head. Crying with my tooth on a String from my greasy door handle. There’s a way she rolls of my mouth To his/hers/theirs. After all it’s the better language To kiss with. And after bury with. (Adoor to Ranni,Kollam)