Simple Twist of Fate or in other words, ‘brotlose Kunst.’
~ Written on March 8, 2011
In my head I’m in Goa.
If I close my burning eyes
I can smell the salt of the sea
And hear the crash of waves
And Joan Baez singing
louder than she ever did in Bangalore.
And at once I feel everything –
Happy, smug, tortured.
In my head, I remember how it felt
to hold hands and watch
indignantly as they got pitifully high
on cheap Goan beer
and hurled insults
in a rude, senseless slanging match.
But before I could speak, you did.
As he knew you would.
Because he knows everything.
Especially about you.
You were so brave and so clever
And I fell in love when you won the round.
And he and I looked at each other.
And we didn’t need to speak.
What is it like to be the only woman
between two men who adore you?
I spent a night with him
And another with you
And they had no idea what to do.
We didn’t care about others – since when did that start?
We just laughed and we just loved.
On the ferry at night, the stars twinkled
And you both held me.
We fuelled fires and created confusion.
And watched the night spread endlessly over the sky.
And I wished you both would stay forever young.
And be forever mine.
We spent the night on the beach
And you never once let go of my hand.
I could see wild wolves in the waves
But we laughed about how I trounced him.
That silly, stupid man.
You said I was really a queen.
They were such happy days
Even if we all cried on the way back
And didn’t speak for days.
Love does that sometimes
Love is just a four letter word.
But the songs it can make us sing.
In my head I’m still in that village
Sitting by the sea, scanning the horizon
And watching you fly in the sky
And seeing him swim angry strokes
While I sip warm beer
And listen to Joan Baez sing about heartache.
In my head I remember a time gone by
And wonder where we are now
A love like that, how can it get so angry?
I close my eyes against the tears
And I can see yours washed with them
Your eyes bluer than robin’s eggs
And I write poetry nostalgically.
And wonder if we should go to Goa
And try to make a memory again.
It’s a simple twist of fate, darling,
That I fell in love with both of you.
What else could it be
That makes me sit at work
And write poetry again?
Knowing it will only scare you
This feeling too much again.