when I ask for a plain cotton washcloth
you give me blue large leather curtains instead,
sunflowers for breakfast on the broken balcony
of a motel
at the edge of an abandoned city.
we are tourists here
never to stay
yet we find each other stealing visiting cards
and gum at the reception.
you will bring a lover who is not me and I you,
we are not gypsies looking for a home.
we are the paint chipped away on milestones.
we are to go back.
for you have become the road,
but I, the city.
Purnima is a final year student at The Department of Germanic and Romance Studies at the University of Delhi. She loves Dorothy Parker, Bo Burnham, and coffee- necessarily in that order. She also finds referring to herself in the third person extremely weird, after all, only Tia Ahuja from Remix can pull it off.