Why don't you look towards me Calcutta on the eve of this Valentine's Day when I lie spread-eagled with my miseries, wrapped in my orbit of lost dreams and desires? You told me I could walk the miles with you in companionable silence while you would be there in wifely proximity. But when I asked you if we could make out and be merry in the hay and generally freak out you turned yourself away and put on a face as cold as marble turning into crisp fresh water.
