In Conversation

Suketu Mehta

Tonight, I thought
I should write you a poem
Not one of those
That borrows
The deep blue
From the sky
Or the dusty brown
Of an impending summer

I thought
I should coat your eyelids
With the tickle
Of dandelions
And bottle away
Your fragrance
In a lachrymatory

I can feel
The precise point
Where your fingers
Rested on my back
When we smiled
For posterity

That night
Is long gone
The poem
May not really be here
But the ache inside
Is real
Even after
You touched me
The way you did.