God was Murdered

At 21, while watching football, I often hoped I was getting a blowjob instead.   At 41, while getting a blowjob, I often hope I was watching football instead. When you’re young & dumb, a block of chocolate, a can of coke, a shot of vodka, a stick of cigarette, a slice of pizza, slightest sight of cleavage, a split-second kiss, half-page love letter, pair of new sneakers, blink-&-miss glance from a hot girl, 19/20 on the class test, 70-rupee weekly pocket money, ‘I like you’ note from your high school sweetheart feels like winning a million dollar lottery & getting an orgasm—all at once.   As years roll on, tits sag, egos swell — you get hotshot jobs, latest iPhones, travel in airplanes, dine in kickass cafés, have 24/7 wifi-tainment, live in posh apartments, party in 5 stars, drive fast cars, and yet nothing shakes your soul — nothing makes your heart wonder . The stay-at-home-or-you-will-die-bitch-days of pandemic turned lotsa privileged humans into sourdough-bakers,

You & I, born in generations divided by million miles You & I crossing paths, an unexpected beautiful surprise You & I, met & gazed into each others’ eyes You & I, felt each others’ hair & heartbeat rise You & I, shared sketches & stories before we kissed   You & I, shared Budweiser & made love on your itsy-bitsy bed You & I, just yesterday we met You & I, our tears yet to shed You & I, our blood yet to bled You & I, our dreams yet to blend You & I, our hearts yet to melt You & I, our story yet to sketch You & I, who are we to each other? You & I, where are we headed next? You & I, are we ready for life’s twisted tests? You & I  don’t know You & I might never know You & I, holding on, walking slow You & I, feeling each moment’s ebb & flow You & I, like clouds floating on mountains in Tibet You & I, like storms speeding on the sharpest bends You & I, run