bollywood

the orange and the caramel
coolide in a mixture that hits me introvenously -
viseraly. just a flicker on the screen
splaying her technicolor hariem scent into my room
bee stung lips that say "vork" and "varmth" and "bod-dee"
delicate bangled wrists and the slender fingers like a drag queens.
bits of a bollywood woman miles away
in my living room where decorated toes and jangled ankles
are not the norm.
dialated emerals in my head, a choas in recognition.
she is not you, she is not here.


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