Love Stories

The night has fallen all over us

like rain falling on young lust.

The flour mill has resigned to a long-pending sleep.

The playground has reduced to a shy silence.

The temple pleads guilty of unanswered prayers.

The truck is stationed firmly like an obsession,

and with the false blue of its tail lamp

in its rear-view mirror, through a singular byway of sight,

moment by moment, we unbutton the night.

We shed a tear at midnight

Go berserk with laughter at one,

And fall dead-silent at two.

Imitating love stories,

the two of us. 

(First published in Dance of the Peacock: An Anthology of Indian English Poetry)