nostalgia and memories

that photograph taken on

a rainy day with patches

of sun and a bottle of wine

close to the river and jazz

has become

a metaphor of depth

and the reason why i

had to break up and begin

something new some thing

further from you

in my imagination

everything is red

everything is blue

and vulnerable

why do we speak at all

when we cannot touch

the magic, only

on lonely days

can we decode

the messages hidden

in the layers of buddhist

mountain monasteries

zanskar and golden heads

everyday escapees scrambling

for epiphany, not every one

can become a nun

you want to run, you say,

for the games

and for tonight’s quarries

well, fine, go ahead and run

and please take along your bucket

of useless histories

things that nobody needs

why are we so obsessed
with nostalgia and memories