Yesterday
right after I wrote
“I need love”
a hundred times in my diary
I placed it under my
pillow wishing for the silly old man with no
better business around
this season, each year to miraculously pull
out a brand new love for me
from a hat, holding it down like a hare by its
ears.
Yesterday right after this
I went back to living my own life.
All of this was done rather
secretly and then I walked
out of the grocer’s and gave
the beggar at the gate 3 rupees and he just
whispered
“There are no love stories”
