Kathmandu doesn’t flinch

when I openly flirt with Patan and Pokhara.

He doesn’t show any sign of envy or anger,

he pretends not to notice.

But when the night comes

and the cities are fast asleep,

Kathmandu slides into my bed and hugs me tightly.

“When I closed my door for you,

I didn’t want you to go and open your heart

to the next city you meet,”

he says,

“Instead,

I wanted you to explore the world,

experience new things,

meet New York,

have a summer fling with San Francisco,

date Rome

have a one night stand with Istanbul

and possibly settle down with London.”

Before I can protest,

he kisses me softly,

making me change my mind.

Kathmandu knows me too well.

Kathmandu knows me too well.