To Manipal

You come to me in a wave of the sea; throwing me off-balance and filling my nose and mouth with heavy salty water. You come to me in the hot, humid air of sunsets; slapping my face like a baby’s sloppy kisses. Hot and humid, like night-time tales. You come to me in evenings of nude, lewd green; splattered so luxuriously that it seems lecherous.


You come to me when, least expecting, I await someone else. And you whisk me away, like a moth by a flame, like clichéd expressions of love, hot and sweaty.

I try and remain guarded, building walls around, building fortresses around, to bottle myself in and you out. And yet, you find me, exposed and vulnerable, and get at me with your cold, clammy fingers. You, Manipal, come and get me on sunset evenings all the time…