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I looked for you all my life,
then found you in the chant
of the tangerine man pushing
his wooden cart down dusty streets.
.
I looked for you everywhere,
then found you in the eyes
of the peanut boy perched crosslegged
in his once white kurta stirring
warm weather snacks in a roasting pan.
.
I looked for you all my life,
then found you in the upturned palm
of a furrowed man propped on the edge
of a fuming street his plastic legs
upright beside him.
.
I looked for you everywhere,
then found you in the rough tongue
of a bibbed white cow sliding
a banana peel quick
from my offering hand.
.
I looked for you all my life,
then found you in the high whine
of a mosquito waking me from sleep
close as a lover whispering,
Sweet nothing, sweet nothing.
.
I looked for you everywhere,
then found you in your room,
a crowd at your feet.
You asked me, “Who are you,
the one who is looking? Who looks?”
And I traced my name in a field of dots
as it disappeared into the always sky.
.
So this is love, my memory sang,
The lane so narrow two cannot exist,
you nodded. Laughter erupted
like an earthquake. Chasms opened.
Hearts leapt into the molten place
where light embraces form
where what matters waits patient
as a mountain expecting a slow train
its cars dismembered in an accident.
.
Reassembled, I make my way
to the peak to view the lay
of the land of birth and death
the way the feeling weather moves.
I sit by an open window
and find you in the wind,
that whispers to my skin,
Sweet nothing, sweet nothing.
.
.