Roshan Koirala


we die as easily as capsicums on plates of pizza
devoured with oozing uncertainty
slipping among tablecloths of unplanned destinies.
we dry like splotches of colors
gone awry on collages of dreams.
thus we live.
and we live
creating out of the hollowness a shape
like froth on the banks,
piling grains of loneliness to make a tower
of castle-like equanimity.
we live like we die
and die like we live,
never knowing quite
which one is worth the sip.