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On life and its vagaries

Mornings

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Mornings are always the same, only the glare of the sun through the windows

The same eight O’ clock heat with tongues of flame

Lazy, but ever so inquisitive

And the cackle of neighbors hens

(Why the guy grows hens?

Could have grown plants, they are silent!)

And the loud hoots of the fish-man

Sharp, rupturing the decibel levels

(He would die in the middle of such a hoot

And there would be a procession

I wouldn’t take part in it

I would celebrate)

Cycle bells sounding far and near

Hoom of vehicles going down an incline

(The road goes to hell from where we stay

It’s a crevice, and Hades is underneath)

A broom scratching the bare earth, the stuffiness in the room, crumpled bed sheets

A depressed pillow, punches at it, it still stay depressed

My face in the mirror over the sink

Eyes sunken, stubble, gray in it

Raised hands stifling yawns, a tooth brush with vague bristles

Tepid paste, iron water, my mouth still tasting of the night

Eyes blinking, catching strands of something and light

Vision yet unclear, scenes like painted frames

Pale smudges at the corner of eyes, veins going somewhere within the sacs in red threads

(They are the high ways to my mistress Sleep and I have just deserted her

She would call again sometime during the day

And I wouldn’t hug her

So others wouldn’t stare)

Irises forming two worm holes

They are both very still and don’t react to light

I may be possessed

Ears dumb, hums when I shake my head

Now the three thin blades are clawing at my face with hate

Trying to tear the hairs by their roots

I hate the damp touch of the shaving cream

And the after shave always catches at my chest, worms through my nose like chilly smoke

The comb is still sticking and catching at my hair

Trying to pull, yields not

Sticks

Thick hair looking gruesome with comb in it

The hell, I think, buttoning the shirt

It sticks in it all the time

It sticks and I make it unstuck, it’s a nuisance

I tug it once again and it comes tearing my pate

At this rate, she embraces me, from behind

You will have no hair left

But you will still love me, I say not kissing her

It’s still a caress, it feels warm on her

She snuggles forward

And hides her face in my chest, daubing it with sindoor

Ruined my shirt, I say holding her to me

She doesn’t look up and is still there on my chest

Ostrich lift your head, I say partly to myself, lifting her by hair

I need to be off and rule the world

I am your world, rule me now

I push her lightly off, see I am out to mark boundaries of our world

And I thrust my feet into shoes, they resist

These are not mine, I say

Then they go in

And I am off

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Written by Sam

January 18, 2010 at 3:52 pm

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