Untitled

Sandeep Sharma


There's an aeroplane heading west to land
On earth he looks around
Near full moon grinning manic south-east
Trees sagging beneath a whole year's accumulated wealth
Sated grass, sated people playing
Running off rich food on a late summer twilight
In rich, rich London

He follows the plane west to see who has arrived
He wants to ask them where they've been
Why they came
He wants to ask themů./
His questions always remain the same
What do you dream about?
What really turns you on?
What do you really, really love?


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