THIS IS YOU, YOU ARE MAY

It’s May

Hot and humid and disorienting

I hallucinate and that’s comforting

Of beds of ice and igloos in the sky

Of winds gone berserk and thunderstorms in July

Of sail boats and chiffon and all things Kygo

Of comic books and giggles, childhood and mango

And just when my imagination begins to sway

The air conditioner groans, we’re back to May.

May, you’ll do good to remember

You’re neither June nor December

But there’s something about your clime

That evokes both love and crime

And just like the disparity that’s Bombay

This is You, you are May.

It’s May

Steeped in slumber, sweat and slackening

Yet my febrile brain has thoughts maddening

Of muslins and margaritas and streets of marigold

Of love that’s unbridled and kisses uncontrolled

Of shaping the day like a potter without a plan

Of throwing caution to the winds, like a young catamaran

And just when my imagination begins to sway

The air conditioner groans, we’re back to May.

May, you’ll do good to remember

You’re neither June nor December

But there’s something about your clime

That evokes both love and crime

And just like the disparity that’s Bombay

This is You, you are May.