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.