This piece is NOT political and NOT a depiction of a secret crush on somebody. It's the tiny story of a blooming friendship, a memory in the making, to cherish for years to come.
Oh well, I still got to pee in there.
'It's a catch-all phrase, like break a leg'
Oh well, I thought you really wanted me safe
When you exclaimed, 'stay safe up there'.
A man of poetry, of painting, of sticky brownies.
A man of suits, of souvenirs, of baseball hats.
A girl of converses, nameless verses.
A girl of quechua, wilderness and peaks.
Where do we meet? Where do we dream?
The crossroads for us are unidentified.
The generous laughter, the intrigue flutter free
From the confines of visa stamps and diplomatic tiffs.
America and India saw each other at a jazz cafe.
America and India met at a Japanese sushi bar.
America and India fought over the merits of the euro.
America and India laughed at the hobbit's big feet.
America and India scrabbled down memories.
And now, America and India have found
Mildly offensive peace, in poetry.
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