Two superficial love poems

  1. #Cafe

There was a cafe here
I have forgotten its name
but every Thursday evening
from 4 to 5.30
a girl sat there
pretending to read a book
about people in cafes
pretending to read books
from her choice of coffee
and muffin, I knew she
wanted a more readable
version of herself
in overused pages
with oil stains
from tender hands
even i wanted
a more readable version
of her that would
sit with me longer
than an hour and a half
and not read a book
like a wax statuette
with fleshy human hands
to hold my head
in the right place
to look at her
while she stares
dead ahead.

  1. #Escalator

While gliding down
an escalator
from the third floor of a mall
bags of shoes and scarves
you remember that thing I said
from a fortnight ago
and get mad
can’t concentrate
you just want to suffocate
me and my insufferable kind
you want to know
why I can’t say the things
you want me to say?
why can’t I be like
everyone else?
Happy and in love.
Occasionally consistent?
Yeah, maybe.
While there are still
a couple of steps left
on that escalator ahead
you wonder if you’ll
be better off with
a wheatish Brahmin boy
in the prime of his youth
the kind maybe even
your folks might like
but I’m there at the end
not the very end
just at the foot of the escalator
waiting for you
with something superficial
in my hand
like an ice cream
and you think maybe I care
about you,
but the truth
is I bought the ice cream
for myself
and a whole lot
of emotional baggage for you.

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