an orange friend of mister chenda

the heat opposed the invasion of thought
and clogged a path for the truculent
laughing they watched her recover from
the growling prickly brawl thinking have i died now
and strangely detaching her head for swimming


that night she dreamt of her father's limbs
wondering how close they would be in the spaces
remembering that the dead bury wounds open
a waterfilled mouth
distilling tiny truths


and she said no to the boy
and he replied you need a book then
but he bowed his head and left dejected
a great load of unpolished performance


she wished she were callous for she knew she was worse
on a hot mouth mouthing words with other tongues

unable to focus she lay beneath a boddhi tree
because sitting wasn't comforting at all


where are you calling from?
may i meet you later?
i have an appointment for lunch may
i call you in the afternoon? may i call you
after the lunch then?
may i?