Thursday, April 27, 2006

Code Red

She couldn't help her smile. Walking down the street, she wove her steps between demolition crews, a crying child, gliding below the iron girders that swung precariously over her head. She smiled, oblivious to the warnings, curses and surprised yells that accompanied her path.

She ran across roads, ignored 'don’t walk' signs, and didn't wait for her change. In response to words of praise and magic and prophecy from old women with cards and parrots, stones, candles and withered flowers in bunches she let 20-dollar bills rise from her palms like setting doves free. The women took one look at her face and put away their potions with a laugh.

Musicians followed her down the street, making the grand sound like it was an old time Mardi gras. Mothers held their children to her smile, eager for blessings. Young men threw phone-numbers, roses—One slid down a drain pipe and pelted after the procession, chanting like it was high mass and arsenal vs. juventus in 2001 at one and the same time.

She walked by, and big men, dressed in sleek suits and scented with rehearsed speeches, passed bills to save children in Uganda, then donated their yachts to Bangladeshi NGOs. One man smiled and dialed a number: instantly bombs filled with cherry blossoms and iris petals exploded gently over Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and the ancestors of the people there rose up from the old tombs to share tea with the toddling dalai lama, lately discovered playing a flute on a tuna long-liner.

She climbed the stairs to her terrace, and faeries woke in Stonehenge, and played dusty pipes that had long since grown into trees, and all the Irish came out and swore by Odin, Thor and Balder that they had forgotten how to spell 'Ulster unionist'. For the first time, more Guinness than Bud was drunk; the lochness swam to Sea World and set Willy free.

Once on top of her water-tank, she danced and sang; Buddha smiled, stretched and woke. Gandhi danced the Cheraw, Harrison and Lennon sang let it be, backed by the invisible choir. Noting the sudden global warming, Wolfowitz and the CIA announced a code red, anxiously. The President announced on national television that the world was under threat from someone dangerously in love. She closed her eyes, thought of his face and kissed the night air.

On the other side of the world, he woke in that instant, and realized he had been smiling in his sleep. At that exact moment, a doctor named Patel discovered a cure for AIDS, and superman deflected an asteroid hurtling towards Iran. He sat down at his laptop:

"You won't believe this, but I think just saw you in my dream. Come online?"

Sunday, April 09, 2006


Do you know what its like

to be able to give you


For what could I give,

I who have sat in dirty robe with cigarette butt,

hearing your stories from a lifetime ago?

A lifetime ago, I would've known what to give:

sonnets, clean feet, a warm neck.

Stories, laughter, smokeless breath.

A lifetime ago, we would've had whole afternoons,

Laughed over things we wouldnt put on our blogs,

made coffee and petted the sleeping cat. Or dogs.

A lifetime ago, I wouldve ensured smooth skin

and punctuality on msn.

A lifetime ago, all the men in the stories wouldve been you.

A lifetime ago, we may not have met.

you had your happiness and I had mine.

But now they've gone and—relatively-- it's just you and me.

we met like two druggies in a dark corner.

Our understanding began when we compared scars

and laughed at the funny shapes they left.

We pointed at each other's words in silence

awknowledging the one who would not return

and the clean bandages we refused to use.

On the nights you had to howl

I waited below, paws numb even before the snow fell,

for what comfort could I offer, I whose turn was next?

Do you know what its like

to be able to give you


There are no flowers. But there is weed.

There is no fruit. Just dried lonely seed.

Two Quioxtes or two Sancho Panzas?

Im not sure at all, at all. Saddle-sore, I only know

we have cursed both windmill, and rusty 'amour'.

Now we sometimes frolic. All teeth and snarls and laughter,

like cubs in spring. Like spring, it does not last.

Night comes, and the snow hides your prints from me.

Do you know what its like

to be able to give you


No virginity. No silken locks.

No rings. No matching socks.

What love-name could I call you that she hasn't?

What part of me could you touch that he hasn't?

What could I give you?

A cig when you were out, but

You dont smoke Camels, and I dont smoke Marbs.

Perhaps a back rub?

a sandwich

a crossword


Bad yoda imitations

(love you I do)

A lifetime ago, we may not have met.

you had your happiness and I had mine.

But now they've gone and relatively,

its just you and me.

A lifetime ago we would not have met.

I hold this thought like a raindrop,

and nod an ok to

the grey sky, and sun that's set.