8 by 8

To you baba....

4th August 2009, Goa Guest House, 6 30 PM.

Those stray thoughts …seem surreal now…
I got a whiff of you in my hair…
right now as the ceiling fan blew the
Curl behind my ear onto my face..

Stray thoughts… almost surreal…
8 by 8, when there was no tomorrow..
I woke up once, to the smell of freshly brewed coffee
Wafting through the kitchen door..

Some stray thoughts… almost surreal …
8 by 8, where fingers ran on my back.
A game of anticipation
Of where the trail would follow next…
I burrow into darkness, into comfort…
I cant hear no one breathe..

Some stray thoughts, almost surreal..
8 by 8 and a Secret Malayalam…no one understands,
No idea what was said…Knowing well though all that was felt…
Those words that seem familiar now…

Some stray thoughts, almost surreal…
8 by 8, Fresh mint lounge on a Saturday morning,
I point my toes to you…
Master at the mercy of the slave…
How I wish the neighbors didn’t hear what was uttered.

Some stray thoughts.. almost surreal..
8 by 8 and those dark nights..
When nothing would ever seem right,
In the throes of guilt, having wronged…
The tears that drowned me and left you hapless..
The perpetual fear of being watched…
Our look over our own shoulders….
The million lies to make this happen…
We were in it together…

It’s all behind us now.

I miss our 8 by 8.