What if you found a one-rupee coin lying in the dust on market street? Is it yours to keep?
What if you wanted to give it away? Is it yours to do what you will?
What if no one cares these days about a rupee more or a rupee less? Is it not something still?
What if the laws of belonging don’t apply to the little things, what if the theorems of loss cannot prove what doesn’t matter? How do their stories end?
And what if I forgot your lips and your eyes and the pain, what if that time fell soundlessly into a timeless sea? Not mine, not yours, whose is that night instead?
sixth cup of tea —
is neither here nor there