“Ribbons of blue” he — who knew no
Boney M song –, then, said, “reminds
Me of you”; instead of doing something
— Anything — other than the annoyed flick,
She propelled, took to heel; and hurried through
As if, to him, she’d been any other chick.
Where he stood, as he strained his eyes
Where she cannon-like strut, with the twitch of
A faint smile the imaginary smoke he inhaled-exhaled, but
As I walked upto him, pat him on his back
He said, “Did you see that, just now?
Why — why — must I be a teenager in love?”. Why, indeed.
Am I to tell him, then, to his pearl-like eyes,
That, in time — immemorial time — he is to be
The most sought after of all decent guys?
“Let’s have some tea”. To all school boy
Wrenching woes of lust, tea strained off
The cheapest brand of tea-leaf dust, served in stained
Saucer-less arrangement, is the ready reliever;
You say: “Seriously, I seriously can’t believe her”.
Tea! Things like the curative quality
In that beverage for the wounded soul that
bides on time wouldn’t change. That day,
You were smiling in a mixed complex of hurt and amusement.
One who walks out sees us, throwing words across the fumes of tea.