Digging for Meaning

her pout is her hug and her lips draw blood stilled in rapture i laugh out at my dazed-ness and give up the moment i had yearned for all this while...

Whenever someone says ‘de-growth’ with all seriousness my eyes dart to the corner of the lips of that person with the alacrity of Bruce Lee’s hands. I await a slight quiver, the curve breaking into a wave. I seek an expression of doubt, of uncertainty about one’s own utterance: The sight of which gives me immense hope and fodder for a hearty laughter. If it doesn’t come along, my laughter turns into cough, the yuck muck which must be gulped down.