Meeting a Friend after Decades

Topform Restaurant, January 2023

Every crammed up word was to assuage guilt
of a later falling apart, drifting away.
It wasn’t meant to happen just means it
happened. Interposed silence is a window—how
we grew into each other. I hope she sees that,
how it resembles. If we can ignite a candle
we have enough ocean left. Memory doesn’t reach
within snail-lengths. We order biriyani
to mirror our two-decade old Friday routine.
A rusted small gate: fallen coconut fronds, dry-brown,
a house behind, a balcony, a small clearing of masonry,
a corner to sing hymns, a coffee pot, how do we
get to it. She says, I like the biriyani, though I know
                                               it’s nothing like it.