This poem was long time coming.
I mean, you must be wondering
‘Tanu has been travelling in the
Metro for 2 months so, uh
Where’s the poem about
The little kid who annoyed you when you were freaked out
After sitting in the wrong train twice?
Or that stunning woman, jesus christ
You put on sunglasses to marvel at her
Remember the tennis shoes
If you knew how to put on eyeliner like that, you’d never be blue.
And those boys, sorry, men
Who looked like very handsome and very old 12th graders when
You realised some jobs have uniforms too.
Oh, stupid Tanu
I know you still think about that time
That guy pointed at your wallet on the floor, lime
-Haired bassist with his chains dripping
Over alternative skull tshirt, gripping
The pole with you.
There were 3 friends, weren’t there?
Who you could swear were coming back from a Queer
Comic Artists Association meeting in some
DU college. Didn’t you wish they’d take you for another one?
How many people have you wanted to
Go home with and see how they looked when they drew?
Blew balloons on their father’s birthday
Which mobile games do they play?
Where is your love poem
Dedicated to the femme-
butch, chapped lips couple?
Your love poem for all the dull
And tired and happy and exuberant people of the city
That is now your home, cringe intended. Pity
In his eyes, as the uncle asks me for directions
On the rapid metro station, while I’m crying senseless
Doesn’t the Green Park bag sanitation guy
Deserve a verse, or five? ”
Well bitch here it is
How are you thinking this is a phase, this is a bit?
How is this self indulgent poem a surprise to you?
Really, it’s unknown to few, that
I fall in love just a little, oh, little bit
Every day with someone new.
Today I sent a voice note to my friend saying I need him to not forward me 13,000,000,000 poetry prompts, but just tell me what to write. He told me to write something to do with Hozier. Now, I am not emotionally sound enough to sit back and unpack songs like “Like Real People Do” so I chose one of his peppy numbers, “Someone New. ” The last lines are the chorus of the song.
I know, I promised myself I wouldn’t write a poem about all the people I see everyday in the metro. But now that I’m stuck in this 250 gajh of my house, I miss standing in line to pay ₹200 ever 3 days at the card recharge counter. Oh, the human condition can make you romanticize the stupidest of things!
That Desperate Friend 