Last Rain in Santa Cruz

For the first time in six months
I heard you; Like the Bombay Summer
Your humid words made me uncomfortable
Wanted to move aside, pass a little humor or two
You despised humor, ones that masked my infidelity
Now you detest the pages of 'Inferno'
The elephant stands still
Glaring in the corner of grey
Blowing like a mundane SriLankan elegy
Divorced to be locomotive again
Or an agnostic lover of dark;
I still read 'Paradiso'
Shamelessly as once I did in Vijaywada -
I was fifty miles away from Binghamton
When I looked over downtown Ithaca
A microphase of colorful shadows
It lended me a respite from guilt
Lets take a walk along Parisienne walkways
Perhaps for the last time
Thick as a brick we will bid adieu
In the simplest of gestures
Trading rusts and wrinkles.