Lines at Unfamiliar Places
Twilight. Cleaning the blood stained hands. A cold wind. Shivers in the spine. Lonely beats from the heart. The water turns red.
The screaming coach halted. I stepped down_ a grey and silent station, with two sad eyed children_ sitting_ on a battered coffin.
The screaming coach halted_ vomiting out hurried florescent eyed people_ swallowing in the bored neon blinking eyes_ I was alone here.
I was all alone_ in the dense morning air of last night’s stale tobaccos, alcohols, perfumes, urine and etcetera. Where were you, my love?
I started the platform_ the steps became warmer as they trailed the previous ones. There, a vermillion box with sliding doors_ floating.
Last night’s words_ floating in the dense still air. Wish I could break the dream jar now…
At the Waterfront. The dying tree_ the river_ the watchtower_ the long boat_ the pier_ the godown. Murky waters.
Lone thunder_ Brother, remember we talked about the many stories standing here? Today, I saw only shadows_ and they were fast disappearing.
The rain_ it chased the liar away, and enveloped me into an emotionally defeated self.
Long instances of logic trailed the mid-afternoon’s fumes. The students_ I confused them with unfinished questions.
Damn you! Damn you progress! Progress, damn you!_ my Milwaukee friend is singing… Damn You Progress! Damn.
An old sad-eyed man sitting in between the flowers_ counting his coins on yesterday’s paper full with beautiful girls. A car honks.
Following the hazy morn_ he crawls, mostly with brief halts, listening to the constipation.
22 January 2011