First, we will meet at our spot
in front of an eternal university
in a primordial boulevard.
Then, after sometime of
aimless wandering
in arid and sinuous streets,
we will go to a bookshop.
It will be raining
by the time we get out.
We will run under a shelter,
and will wait there, watching
many layers of rain
battering the dead road.
“Today is the last day on earth,”
I will say. You will nod.
From there we will
take a memorable auto ride
to the home of
a revolutionary poet.
The poet is old but flamboyant-
He will speak about his poems,
about how, an empty teacup
on a table, can be a poem tomorrow,
and how, it can be a war cry
in the happening revolution,
the day after tomorrow.

It will rain again.

 

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