Having a cup of tea with you

in a ramshackle dhaba by the road

reminds me of Frank O’ Hara’s iconic poem,

‘Having a Coke with You.’

The cold dusk has just fallen

upon the October Himalayan mountains

casting their shapeless silhouettes against a lavender sky,

and upon us

as we hold our cups

over the glittering city of Muzaffarabad

and gaze into the darkening cirrus afar,

a new moon rising above them and the majestic North star,

reflecting on the beauty of this fleeting moment.

The gray steam rising from our porcelain cups

merges in the condensation of our winter breaths

creating patterns envied by

jet contrails and shooting stars.

The metallic road by our side

snakes up to the shrine of the Saint of Chinasi

reminding me of a similar road in Naples

that leads up to Mount Vesuvius’ top

whose raging volcano once buried

the debaucherous Pompeii alive.

Perhaps you think

that in our three years of togetherness,

we have slowly cooled off

just like Vesuvius

that the bustling Naples

no longer takes seriously as a threat

even though the geologists still call it ‘active’.

What good is an active volcano after all

that nobody dreads, you might think?

Likely to blow its top or not, I think

Vesuvius is still Vesuvius

towering solemnly over the Naples’ shore

along the still waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea

in no need to erupt in ash and flames

every now and then to prove its power.

Either that or may be

you are right after all –

we have transformed

from ardent lovers to really good friends.

I don’t mind if it’s true, in fact,

I really like it better.

Don’t you?