Friday, June 11, 2004

islamabad smells like pot.

the grass is damp,
springing up through my
minimal sandals. i
sit on the bench.

fashionably rebellious
strategically placed
precariously balanced between concern and insouciance

'the stars are very far away'

something inside me feels sad,
another small bleakness to spread
behind my eyes.

'happy birthday, man'

Mina at 3:37 AM