Walking Through White Plaza on a Friday Evening

Proofs of time machine folded under his arm
The balding promless man wanders through
tiptoe on the jagged shards of calculus and
will she go out with me now?

Students for a Better
pack away wood and voices
hoarse from spreading the unblindness
Laughter swelling the horizon
with pictures of the dying packs

Come to our party beg the
blue pink green and yellow flyers
winking tempting some and the chosen
with the promise of love joy and forgetfulness
or at least sex
in the beer strewn stables

And I see manwoman embraced
The clock dies
breakup makeup hookup catchup shutup
And the machinery of the purple heavens creaks into
sluggish icicles
for one still moment

A girl runs past
Panting from the sweat of fitting in
those jeans she didnothavetobuy
and the effortless beauty of some short skirts

— Revti Gupta

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Filed under Poetry, Vol 1 Issue 2

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