Letting sirens do the music September 24

windshields down, it’s monsoon
water is blowing in but passion has swept you away.
we cannot embrace
we have to listen to the radio
have to calculate expenditure,
let dreams leak away
like water-beds like balloons like joy
deflating on an afternnon – waiting for a phone-call,
waiting for a phone-call.

red evening, I do not try to explain
we go to a temple
and recollect our thoughts.
clinging on to your wet-palm
music has an after-sense.