While you were at your mum's
I've noticed the cracks in our walls finally,
and found them to
map an exotic, faraway
The cracks themselves,
I'm sure, are dusty highway systems,
once complex, with arterial bypasses
and scenic stopovers galore.
There's a point near where the wall
yields to the almirah,
where the cracks converge
and it might be
a small, quaint town
that might house both simpletons and psychopaths
--as passionate about their rituals,
as they are about raising right
their sons and daughters.
The architecture (this might interest you)
in the town
is Gaudi on an off day,
an extremely off day, if I may add
and maybe its charm lies in another season
or maybe this town has some uncommon local delicacy
or some unspoken tragedy
within the sewers of its streets
but I can't see it, in spite of squinting.
You've always asked me,
with earnestness and love
whether you're holding me back
and now I realize that your fears, are, in fact, true.
Without you, I can build cities.