Makarand Paranjape

31 August 1960 - / Ahmedabad, Gujarat / India

Walls

In the sultry darkened hotel room
I lost my innocence.
Our touch solidified into a wall
It separates us now
We can't scale it.
The privileged uptight seam
Eats into the warmth between your legs-
How will it feel
If I palm you gently there?
Will your thigh-stubble tickle?
You dress to tempt
To provoke undress:
The forthright curve of your waist,
The assertive thrust of your breast
Are both suspect.
You smile, cleverly
Appropriate borrowed smells.
I carry them away
Oppressed.
Within my palms your face grew cold.
We slobbered, hairs enmeshed;
Tongues turned reptiles
The saliva strung our distances with silvery tentacles.
You wiped your lips on my chest
And I turned my face away.
Still we held each other fast.
You said it was easier this way
Here was a bond
Real, palpable
Our wall
We could huddle by it.
How could every meeting be a new beginning,
How could we assay anew,
Keeping fresh vigil each time?
So, I have learnt all the cues now.
I play my part with ease
I have marked smaller spaces
In which to be myself.
There, imprisoned beyond your reach
I grope against our wall
And call for you incessantly.
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