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.
