campus

if you look at it from this side
the sun sits atop the ashoka tree like a crown.

a naughty breeze blows my erect hair
into my own eyes, and i think how symbolic—
i let something grow on my head
and it ends up blinding me.

a pregnant monkey walks by the gutters
and i tell my friend— see, i told you to wear a condom.
another monkey makes faces at us
from the branch above. when it jumps
onto the stonebench we bravehearts
scatter, and wait for it to finish its excavation
for fresh soft drink cartons
in dry waste wet waste dustbins.

deer scamper past the classrooms
as aloof to the lectures as the students are.
an occasional not-so-occasional whirring
of helicopters and planes from the airforce station nearby
pauses the professors and rouses the confessors.

if you look at it from this side
the ashoka tree is flipping off the faint moon—
saying fuck you to the wide bright sky.