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dogs nose in the putrid garbage along the Vishnumati river,
faint bhajans
drift from the Swayambhu hill
on a drowsy day like today,
it is easy to pile the endless drowsy days
of a numberless number of people into a heap
on a drowsy day
it is easy to drool and doze,
bits and pieces of longing
banking up in a corner of the mind
as the head does U-turns
on the pillow
luckily
in a scratchy Skype session in a scratchy Thamel cafe
my daughter in Australia conjures up a kaleidoscope of cartoons
wearing Cleopatra/Roy Orbison hair-dos
while skating on surfboards
time may be at a standstill
but Dante’s ‘love that moves the sun and stars’
still moves
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