Disjointed R.E.M.

Visualize this:

            inside an empty concert theater

unoccupied seat between me and your older brother, in our hands
                        are the newly printed photographs we all

                                                            took back in Fukuoka when we all got into

an accident


Imagine this:

Through your window, the night had revealed itself as a

mantle of blinking


‘twas a common sight but the absences of those stars inside you

made you want to swim with the

thousand lights brought by heaven;

                                                in your pocket, was the engagement ring

you are supposed to give to my sister



                        my funeral, your brother’s funeral



                        the lied me and your brother composed

            with you, in your favorite brown shirt and barefooted, humming

                                    the unfinished melody


Visualize, again:

            the sunset back in Fukuoka

or in Mumbai


Imagine, once again:

                                    your English professor back in College who (as you told me)

                                                reminded you of me

in your bed, nude and covered with a blanket

            heaving and dreaming.



Two years ago, you told me: our hardships are too
            difficult to confess, too difficult to even acknowledge.
                                                                        It’s a demanding activity, you added.
                        In full honesty, I never entirely grasped those words
                                                  because that sundown, I was just so dazed

                                                so overwhelmed—I know you remember that I never replied to you—by how
the eventide poured onto your face: ‘twas not a perfect sun-kissed but it was the heavens

                                                            transferring a splendor whisper

                                    The following night at Fukuoka, I saw the future,

your future still filled with

                                                 sufferings, I never understood why.

                                                                        Now, I know.

                                                                                    With or without the theater curtains to admit it: I know.

What are you looking for?