To you, a passing paradise

you are brilliant, insatiable, incorrigible. what an amazing time. what amazing memories. I remember a warm night a long time ago when we were so little, so naive, full of adult thoughts in children's bodies, and every act somehow seemed so wrong and grown up. and we ventured in tasting, touching, feeling, loving.

and then later on we laughed, laughed at absurd little skits, laughed at silly clothes, ugly makeup. black beetles scurried across the concrete floor, naked and blinded by flourescent lights, and that unmistakable oily odour pervaded. notes were passed around, the bugs rained down, the lights dimmed, and brightened, and we sat, and listened, and sometimes our minds wandered, and met, and collided, and the air was thick and heavy with thoughts and ideas, palpable. if we listened carefully enough we heard the million internal conversations, the bantering, the coyness, the half smiles.

and then we would sing old cheesy camp songs, loudly, untunefully, revelling in noise. in all that noise.silly songs about best friends, undying love..campy...touchy feely, utterly useless. but we find ourselves after all theses years still remembering snatches of song, the words slide off easily, and we remember that dangerous collective insanity, brought on by desert heat, and too many like minded people. too many joyous, volatile, violently happy, elated, tearful people.
and then we would talk about a fire, attempt one, and leave it, bored by the regularity of it, some of us stayed back, fire light mesmerising, certain in our hearts that it is the most beautiful thing we have seen, till tomorrow we find something more amazing, fragile, gentle, beautiful.

and then another time i saw you out of the corner of my eye, in that dark theatre, you were with the girl whose mascara bled, and you held her hand. no wait, that didint happen, at all, i forget what exists in my mind never existed in yours. but i remember her brown hair swishing around her neck, her eyes lifted and looking up she sings, loud and clear...

five days of surreal, imagined, parallel lives.

and i am glad we spoke, i am glad to hear what you've done, wht you will do, and maybe the next time we speak we will pretend to be best friends again, maybe flirt and laugh and remember days of ago...