her gesture(s) of love

it is either these between two;
i am getting exceedingly desperate
or,
no longer having any qualms,
i am rightfully too cheerful
too playful too loud
for my own good.

shall we scream for sheer attention
or shall we slink back quietly into despair?
shall i allow my words be cringe-able
or groom them with curious parables?

***

i burst into laughter when the father said, “we all came from gogol’s overcoat”. de heckkkkkk.

while he might have read the overcoat on the train to calcutta, i first read it (or tried to, because they turned the lights off) on the freaking bus on the way to kelantan, printed out in draft, all twenty or so pages, my first time boarding a night bus alone dammit. then the girl next to me, hei baca apa tu. i said hm, gogol. gogol? de hek is det. ape tu dik. oh tak de pe penulis rusia je. suka baca buku ek. aah. dah malam kuuut. yeh. rajin print. heheh takde duit beli buku. dik belajar ke. yeh sekolah menengah. oh tingkatan berapa. empat. baru start eh. yeh baru dua minggu. rajin balik. heheh.

after that, afro girl appears, sees me dragging a full plastic bag full of books down at jalan hamzah(?) in the wee hours of the morning, going into seven eleven buying a tin of nescafe, and then the wait for the first bus to pengkalan chepa and then, empty, empty.

***