The loyal heart
and deep struck love
a little bit of crazy
a little bit of blood
in hopscotch
in double-dutch
with chalk and beads
and make believe
on windowsills
in bud vases
over cats cradle
and séances
you see them in pairs
pink lipped, shadow exchanges.
I can’t remember the details now,
the precisely folded notes with curvy letters
and initials full of code and promises.
Everything was deeply believed.
I will lose you someday
and we will forget
the frightened hours,
the new sweat.
It’s the reason the director in the old Indian film
held the camera on the girl's face
in the scene of her childhood friend's wedding.
Just her face,
with the sound turned off.
