fielded India.

hes clogged
between the mistes of a town
that nurtures death.
spits it into the air
into the ears
of children and lovers
a town that manifests
nothingness.
and when half formulated dreams
melancholically take leap
in this town
fall without end.
whenever a freshly burst thought becomes
in the haste of idealistic.
nieve
adolescence
immediately
before it does him
he;d put an end to it
she
with her pixie raven hair
in her flight
was an aimless egal
she'd tread everywhere
color maps with her footprints
grow to the heat of burning cities
mend to the freeze of still mountains
and emptied dreams
into half used papercups
sitting in the local grimm aired caffe
one sultry afternoon
mean and women
sweating fear
he glimpsed her..
and they came to be.
the stiflingly putt
the aimlessly free
he told her-
while rubbing his palm
against her short hair/
scalp-:
of his father
who in the basement
tied a rope around his neck
when his mother was pregnant with their sixth child.
she,
with her loos kaki pants
that conceal the slenderness
of her legs
in tern
told him of
the gentle fade
of her father
young and old palms entangled
who's magnificent mind
conquered by a lump
weathered and rotted,
silently.
both lying on the dry
fields
of the pestilence inhabited town
strands emerging
and morphing into
one another
amidst heat
they grew into each other
driven with intensity
burst apart.

so it is
the man
   buried in a town
 spends a lifetime digging out his heart
and she, as she leaves
 lost in the world
of russia and India
strives to find hers.