Pleasure

how many lines intersect at this point called 'pleasure'?

But can pleasure be a point?

pleasure in a scatter diagram running a whole city.

or pleasure in a parallel line extending itself like railway tracks.

or pleasures such as 'you and me', which move in circles on a windmill.

or my pleasures with him, which dive and glide like projectiles.

Pleasure stored in a square box, the moving image.

Pleasure on the cover of Vogue.

Pleasure laid out on a smooth white plate full of cold salad.

Or pleasure written in texts and cds, and other round-the-clock stuff.

centers of pleasure, peripheries of pleasure.

graphic and non-graphic tales of pleasure.

ripples of pleasure on a canvas night.

Our pleasure(s)

their pleasure(s)

A class of pleasure.

The pleasure of a class.

Sepia

Sepia makes you look solemn,

like a flower with a dry mouth.

Sepia makes you a cradle that only windows know about.

When I'm looking at you in sepia,

the innocence burns me into pieces and shrouds.

A figure that doesn't fit into crowds.

Sepia and brown are not the same.

You were green on top of green when I last saw you.

In sepia, you are ancient history.

When the boats leave the ghats during dim, mellow afternoons,

your face ripples in sepia water.

Balm

Sometimes, when my shadow lights get trapped in a glass box,

or some other times, when I'm thinking about 'world hunger'

or other such things written on recycle bags and tee shirts,

I trace a crack in the pimple on my chin.

the tip of my nose feels cold when

my mirror tells me I'm no more than a pain on its surface.

So I go to the store and buy myself some new toys and blueberry muffins.

Markets keep the ghosts away, and the bubble wraps never complain.

down your throat

Flowered and scented, my grave-

Soak it in a butter lump inside your throat and be brave.

Talk random and loose to my bones-

They'll find your culprit and give him a run for his soul.

You think I think I'm smart-

Don't get me wrong, I've frequently overplayed my part.

Allow diffusion in the soup-

Be a fish in my dish, while our jingle plays in a loop.