warm fizz
Confetti coloured homes whiz by the windows on the east and a sun warmed breeze blows in from the west. Cruising on a zipper thin road cleaving the everyday careworn civilian lives from the frolicking, vacationing gentry on the endless sand, the little bus beetles down towards the golden south, where living is forever good. Atleast in my head. The hair on brown sugar arms turning golden under a beating sun, salt water sizzling off a bare back, toes catching a fleeting grip on watery sand, torsos bobbing with the waves, and everything blending together as if there were never any seams between skin, surf and sand.
I shuffle off the bus and then straight onto the sand. Four o'clock remains my favourite time of day. Grains of sand spraying on the backs of my legs, salt on my tongue. The sun is still high. I tease my backpack off, and stare at ocean. Here, finally. Then one warm palm closes around my waist, the other pushes itself just right into my own hand, I lean my back on a warm chest. This is a homecoming. And all of a sudden, there is nothing between me and a long bout of contentment but city life melting like fizz and one long sigh.
I shuffle off the bus and then straight onto the sand. Four o'clock remains my favourite time of day. Grains of sand spraying on the backs of my legs, salt on my tongue. The sun is still high. I tease my backpack off, and stare at ocean. Here, finally. Then one warm palm closes around my waist, the other pushes itself just right into my own hand, I lean my back on a warm chest. This is a homecoming. And all of a sudden, there is nothing between me and a long bout of contentment but city life melting like fizz and one long sigh.
Labels: goa
This entry was posted
on 8.9.08 at 7:54 PM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
» Post a Comment