Raj Dronamraju

I shook your hand
I took the loss
Escape was impossible
I took the loss
...

The hand of friendship was offered
The hand of friendship was slapped away
The trajectory of the spurned
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We are the goldfish in the bowl
We are known as Mr. and Mrs. Goldfish
I don't mind this transparency, a benign surveillance
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She is the queen of the replacements
Her people await further orders in a large open-air building
A former factory - old and gray and damp, it looks like the 1950's
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Love sighted through an opening in deep forest
A blur that moves quickly and vanishes
But leaves a lasting impression
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If obnoxiousness is art consider this your exhibition gallery
Different stages of difficult behavior hang on the walls
"Don't touch" but some illiterate fool usually ends up doing just that
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Have you ever heard Saturday morning radio?
Is the radio programming different on Saturday morning compared to weekdays?

She dreads small talk and making his lunch
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It's not my heart beating, it's my fists
Against waves of impact
During a frank one on one talk with extravagance
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I wrote down the directions to your house hurriedly on a piece of scrap paper
I remember stuffing it in my pocket but later I couldn't find it
Based on my memory of our conversation and my sense of direction, I thought I could find my way
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My friend took home a couch that he found near a garbage dumpster
It was infested with bugs and he had to wash and fumigate it thoroughly

And I saw a broke down oven
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I lived near the beach but I never went to the beach
Used to drive by the beach and think "Boy, if I had some free time, I'd really like to go there and feel the warm sand under my feet"

I lived near Hollywood but I never went near Hollywood
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Let the tedious sway destiny
Keep pumping it full of assembly line slavery
Bring forth legions that don't have a personality between them
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After an eight hour shift, you massage the calluses on the bottom of your feet
Soak them in a tub of hot water and salt
Scrape off the dead skin while your feet are still wet
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When I was in my early 20's, I signed up with a temporary agency seeking work
I'd work here and there and always run into the same woman sent by the same agency
She was in her 30's (hard to guess if it was mid or late) , pretty in a shabby down in the mouth way
Her long hair was not styled, uncombed, oily
...

He spoke well, he dressed well
He had just what they needed
He had a touch of the bad boy about him
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I don't know when exactly your hand slipped from mine
Your arm and body no longer clinging to mine
Falling back into the sea
I caught a glimpse of your head slipping beneath the water
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Today I will count to three
And today I will push in the lock button on my bedroom door
And today I will thrash around alone looking for objects to break in a fit of temper
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I remember kissing you in your room upstairs
While your mother watched General Hospital downstairs
I remember speaking to you in a fog as if your physicality was not visible
Spread your love so unevenly on a surface soon to be consumed by time
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The situation demands I talk of flying horses, white pillow-like clouds, and other soothing yet forceful images
We could buy into the condition wherein he forgot everything immediately, he forget immediately all the effort it took to get him here
Salvation demands I celebrate biology as something akin to a holy vision
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I love you as second nature
I love you as identity
I love you as vital statistic
...