An Ode to Your Best Friend

By Achintya Prakash

I know your best friend, like the back of my hand,
I understand her stands, her wants and demands, her
haunts, her lands, my mind is rife with her life; I wouldn’t
know her better even had I met her more than twice in my life.

How?

Well, everytime, as of late, on a date,

you state or opine her refined views and
lines and everytime we watch the news
I’m given clues of her do’s and dont’s on the
state of the state; (sure, I think it’s great that
she’s wont to analyse and auspice the gradual rise
of the economy); or when its you and me and a movie
(and shoot me but I like to see my flicks quietly)
I get her views on sex, the city, and its a real pity
that she’s not seated right here between us having a witty
and heated debate of how to abate the increasing rate
of shitty films; I’ve learned she’s a fine woman to dine and wine
with, even when she’s not there.