Dreamed 2009/4/12 by Wayan
I live in a Bollywood film. Rule-caged, I sing
and wait. True Love or nothing! Jeez,
what's True Love even mean?
Moping, I walk the flowered terraces between
Hoping, I gawk at flowered dresses, sweet skin,
edge: by movie law, I'll never be allowed
Then I meet a girl with frizzy hair. She's
Yet both of us would find a sexy fling
But if we tear off clothes and play
won't the Bollyonic Code drive me away,
call her flawed? Is a girl I like enough?
for a Bollywood life, or understand
to my sing-out, dance-troupe,
Or is it absurd? Maybe it's true
that I'm stuck in an over-romantic view.
Some harsh evidence backs my fear--
since our triangle died last year,
I won't date. Won't even try. Do
I set my love-bar insanely high?
Living inside this film may keep
me sealed off, singing, til I die.
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