A Note To the Indian Princess

The aunites gossip back home About how you've grown Out of your white cotton frocks And into red silk saris They talk about how you're ripe for marriage About how quickly boys flock to you-- Your family's rich and you are beautiful. Like a princess but with none of the excess. Their perfect Indian girl is rather simple. But, the real you they can never comprehend. Those brown khol-rimmed eyes with That understated nose ring confuses them. They'd rather ignore your luscious red mouth. Those soft lips were like velvet as they brushed across my lashes as you pretended to blow sand out of my eyes one drunken night on a Konkan beach. Both too scared to be the first to say anything We just sat there drunk and giggling When the aunties speak of you I can't help but imagine Things that leave Little to the imagination. I am a woman And you are a woman We're on the same page. The boys will wait.