Lake Tsongmo, Sikkim, India.



every breath

like clouds

of smoke disappears

white against white.



in the first rain of the year
under another neon-lit night
i have seen you cross twice,
the same street where infinite life thrives-
an arcade of simulacrums
its sea of fantasies recollected with the drunken haze
of half-remembered thoughts,
inflated conversations, excuses not explanations
glimpses and half-serious attempts to reach out through the crowd
with forgetting as my only closure.

sometimes, in the backyard of my dreams,
you will appear quietly
more fleeting than a spectre
and my endless pursuit into abrupt mornings.