[ love. ]

one of those afternoons
waking up
at sundown.
up, out into the white sky-
shawl-covered sticks and bricks town,
billow blue smoke from the horizon.

it's a (always when i sleep)
different sky-
hot winter parades and
always when i wake
shots at her cavalcade
bright sirencars pile out, up
at the gate,
red on a blue screen eight
-y, seventy, a hundred and twenty
in Bolton market today.

the loaded question,
six yellow taxicabs in a dirty lot,
vegetable-walla on wheels and the
road that led to the Arabian Sea.
would you leave these
January mournings,
Saran-wrapped, postcard houses,
cold air and naked trees?
(
sex in Karachi would be wonderful
but
where would you have sex in Karachi.)