I have begun to love you
PRECISELY because I am incapable
of falling in love with you.

Colliding with the unknown, matter-antimatter,
the moment of annihilation, yes all that bollocks…
I’m rather a little old for that,
too jaded, perhaps more than a little sceptical.

But you who are called Memory (Memories?)
I have begun to wait for you…
to come in through the window, flap your wings, peck at the seeds
and preen yourself at my study.
I have begun to wait for you, and for that reason,
all the molten clocks have come alive
ticktock ticktock ticktock ticketty-boo, as I sit waiting for you.

Of course, this is mere metaphor-
I cannot step out to meet you,
nor can you,
not now.
But look! One can see the Himalayas now,
icy and majestic,
from as far as Punjab! So I wait for you because
everything-
disappointments, food riots, heartbreak, Hindu and Muslim-
give way to the softness of your fingers.

I wait for you to come, sit beside me, chirp about your day
and fly out the window.
I wait for you because
you are what I know, or perhaps
what I think I know, that which is predictable, familiar.

I wait for you, I wait for you to come
and tell me why this is so, or better yet,
why not.