The other evening I'd gone to see him
With good gossip and leavened tales
After four months and five days
Well pruned and well connected
In my best dress, my best smile,
My choicest face.

He said Oh! It’s you!
Come come come.
We made to embrace and held each other,
Old teacher and lyrical bum.

But Krsna
His shoulders were crestfallen
And his arms were loose skinned
In my arms
And his three span chest
Didn't strain his black T-shirt
                                       anymore.

And when Vimal brought tea
He dropped into it, two sugar-free pills
And stirred it patiently.
Too patiently.
I said
Sir, you been writing lately?
And he said no.
Then he said I wrote a little.
And I said poetry?
And he said no.
Then he said I must get a dictaphone.
And then
The cigarettes began to come and go

next: feet