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?

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