Getting out of enclosed space
To get a smoke...
When reached down
The pavement with pentagons...
Felt somehow she was on her way
To catch me...
She must be in a hurry
For thought I got a glimpse of her saree...
With black base...golden border...
Over the distant sky scraper
In the breeze aflutter...
A little later
Her perfume me soaked
With Clive Christian she me poked...
Her Imperial Majesty got me fell
Ambrosaic patterns her did me tell...
This act of mine standing quiet
On a wet footwalk like a fallen kite...
Is the only possible space for me assigned
At that moment...precisely signed...
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