Our faces were drowned in hoods
As rain fell softly on our heads.
Its sounds came as from the ocean.
Our tiny judgments took a beating
In its steady patter on our ears
Where they seem to be beating us
Like angry dads, back from office.
As we walked we made tiny circles
In rain water, under our umbrellas
That saved us from the angry sky.
Houses were a mere blur in white.
Our paths ended in green of trees.
Rain-mud spattered on black coats
Surprised by blurs of passing cars,
Their wipers saying no to the rain.
We had left school in the street.
Our home of angry smoking fathers
And grannies in loving egg-heads
Seemed to vanish in a fuzzy rain.
A scruffy dog shook body of rain.
Back at home, we bath our bodies
In eucalyptus steam as vapors rise
Quickly to drown rain in its smell.
The rainy night frogs had croaked
And come out for a while to die.
The next morning their carcasses
Squished under our walking feet
While our eyes looked at the sun.
The rock has memories of water
And of egrets, shadows of clouds
Passing over the lake,a temporary
Hyacinth carpet spreading cheer.
In case it forgets its mission in life
Someone made white calligraphy
On it about a virtuous toothpaste
That had salt in it,believe it or not.
The rock that earlier had shadows
Dancing about and deeply involved,
Now declares unnamed boy smitten
By an arrow through heart for a girl
Deeply involved in toothy burghers
Fresh from country oven and a cola
Frothing at mouth on phony fingers.
The scene has water bottles loosely
Anchored to it, by the passing wind.
It seems love is in the air and water.
We are on way to respective suns.
They all set beyond tall buildings
In a common sunset ,leaving roads
To a reluctant rule of streetlights.
We return bumper-bumper to homes
Where we sleep for our respective
Suns to rise, to start new journeys
Bumper to bumper, of mutual love
Between our cars, dimpled darlings.
Clouds are smoke of a burning sea.
They get in your hair in the jungle
When trees burn and climb a sky.
Trees are green sea below clouds.
They are vapor to please moody sun.
A sea burns too to please angry sun
Empathetically, its bosom heaving
In waves , somewhat platonic love.
Smoke happens on the street fires,
Near boss trees who shed their love
In leaves, scooped up by old women
For money to keep stomachs going.
Any one among us could be inviting
To the sky’s open bursts of anger.
Why not other tree, asks each of us
Whose birth was accidental on bird
Of a random flying in and dropping
A seed from a random tree far away.
Here we stand in our rain randomly,
Our leafy tops open to an angry sky,
Our coming, chance biological event.
We keep asking why not other tree.
We love the fragrance of its entrails
When it is brought down and ripped
Open for table, under its thorny skin.
When fatso was sitting pretty pretty
On a bark , we had it put in thin veils
To stall bad eyes falling on its beauty.
Its hardened seeds play like marbles
On a road in street children’s holes.
The kids ,when done with their play
Stuff them in their burning choolah
Fires made in three stones, in smoke
That burnt their eyes so deliciously,
Seeds would taste nice and smoky.
Before death on our standing knife
It gave such a fine feeling to fingers
What a lovely touch , what comfort.
Death was fragrant and memorable.