wispy song
meandering, like
the carving on your chillum

fingers tripping
carelessly
on the fretboard

gypsy stoner,
where are you going?

wooden chords
lazily drifting along
nylon strings

picking up words
scrawled in my head,
finding melody
in the space between

my song,
dancing lightly
like a smoke ring

evaporating into
the warmth of my room,
the colours
of the afternoon.

paati

she,
bent double,
rippling brown skin

under her
loosely draped
faded saree

dragging palm fronds
on the road
her nosering sparkling

against the sun,
as she gestures
to us for help

young shining eyes,
gummy grin
and wise wrinkles,

woman.