It was a hazy summer afternoon-June I think,or maybe March
(The summer is always early in my land,how about yours?)
Four years ago,nearer five or so I think
(We are careless about ticking away of clocks here,how about where you live?)
I think I think
I unearthed a musty photograph
and the light was low
and I am not sure but perhaps your eyes were clouded over
from the little I can remember
(It is always cloudy here from smoke or steam).
And I never thought I would write about you again
If only a ritualistic rumination of distance in a bid to purification
of this soul-if i have one (we are careless about these things here)
from what came after.
But I remember the cold nights, face down mathematics notebooks,toes twined
and all that fierce love bubbling in the cauldron,
and I am a little sad it never got to know any fate other than spewing over.
Now that all those years keep running into each other
And all the burnt over rust of memories start to taste the same
Stay stuck under the tongue as a metallic aftertaste
I remember this,and I remember that the end sees always a folded over home
But I remember that night-or was it nights-and I remember the stars outside
My window by starlight,and I remember being fifteen,and it all
Smells and sounds and tastes like
All the love I never got round to clothe disaster in and carry over
But I remember being so young,the universe always threatened to spill over
All over my faded tshirts and baggy cargo pants,and I remember the. storms
and the stars and the rustle of the leaves
And I remember,four years in I still couldn’t learn what
love means what love is what love should bring
And I think there was a great deal of light
But talking of light this is what I do remember
The sunsets were glorious in my city that year,how about in yours?