We sit on the granite breakwater built for coastal protection entering the field of view of the cctv behind us supposedly built for citizens’ protection. The waves crash beneath us breakwater doing its thing “Kab tak chup baithe ab to kuchh hai bolna” comes a hindi song from fifty years ago from a nearby speaker they’ve banned English and chicken rice. We find one star in the light polluted sky You tell me it’s arcturus, the fourth brightest star in the night sky I tell you you’re the first. We go back to the bunker sunday ends with you in my arms I wake up thinking how you abate and intensify my monday blues at the same time. and then there’s a knock on the door, the robots have come for us.