I know it won’t.

Riding in the monsoon, I dream of the bike slipping and sliding and I with it—

Fucked-up bones, lacerated face, blood, flesh, pain, and all that jazz.

I know it won’t.

[Originally written on 11 July, 2019 past noon in Pune, India]

Date

23 November 2022

Up next

Three crows to caw. Sometimes, that sweet singing of a koel is not sweet but annoying. So much so that I want three crows to caw right in her face. Not the koel’s fault

Previously

Certain overheard grievances. I know a lot of dogs who would strongly disagree with making roads and pavements in every nook and corner with concrete, tiles, and asphalt, leaving