Going Home

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Every October, I get out of Kathmandu
ever descending the winding Prithivi Highway
clad in ever pallid clouds.

The parijat blossoms fall on the roads
in eurhythmic dance movements
& all the while I think of you

& how you once tossed me out —
cold and helpless on the frost-bitten road —
like the flowers that lay along the wayside.

Twitter @bibek_writes

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