TV static precedes
Vh1 music,
lazying flips
of daily newspages,
flush, brush and coffee sips
“Are you done??” and the routine quips,
hot iron thumps,
belts clinging, ties zipping,
Footsteps scurrying,
hurrying,
shoes polish and
'almost forgot my house keys'
Check!
bid the byes and
the door
Locked,

Silence

...... Escalating,
loud, intensifying,
hum of vaccum, peaked
consistent, steady,
lo! the sleep friendly fan
with helpless, nagging,
dying grunts,
A turf war.

a wince, and
a hostile rustle
a body moves,
the blankets ruffle
and creases fold,
looking over
a still life canvas,
No voice of motive
the speechless lone
traveller could hear,
Nor a whisper of reason,
for his morning bag pack,
Waiting still,
for its season,
for destiny's sound
of enunciation.

a new day in a new place
filled with many a smiling faces
and the frayed,
soothed by an unexpected calm
brought upon by the gentle waft that stayed
a while and then some more
like the kids playing, in memories from my days of yore

the square filled with people
and facades
beautiful, strange and eccentric
with strains of similarity, yet different from what i knew
i watch, as some stay and some fade
as i hold on to a spontaneous few

the square begins to sleep
but the night lights come on, as if to keep
the sounds that depart
from the transient gregarious square
that holds pleasant laughter and innocent cries,
romance and age, wink like fireflies
oh but they all leave
the square empty and void
making room a plenty, for the fleeting sepia tone of a spring evening
that strings several chords
of resounding memories we enjoyed

they clutch me and surround me
and I let them
take me
to not so long ago, when street lights, familiar
and parallel to the railroad tracks
took me home,
unwillingly, they disappear
as I step on my shadow,
the only brother with me
on the street I walk back on
so far away from home
the place my heart, at times, pines to be.

a circling vortex of disarray
starts inside my head
clasped by unsure
yet supportive hands
the helpless recesses of which
lets the sycophantic white light of my desktop monitor
summoned upon a wretched click
scatter on this scattered face
forming a weak shield
amalgamated by the desolation
and imbecility of a roadside orphan
ignorant but lasting
on the crumbs left over
from a stranger's life

a familiar unsettling sound
cracks open this pale shield
and my brooding eyes open
to see her making contact
one instant
one magical instant,
and die the next
leaving my impressioned eyes
wanting more
i lie, lie to myself
when the truth is
there woud be no more
of her tonight

retreating never meant giving up
and i do retreat,
to escape the insanity
of her charm get to me
amidst real affection
to run away while wanting to look back
when an embrace is just outside my door
desperately wanting to hear that unsettling sound
which drowns the familiar sounds of laughter

the circling vortex now inherent
inside my head
clasped by my helpless
supportive hands
the helpless recesses of which
lets the servile white light of a numb monitor
trace my tears

oh how I weep
to be her onscreen ******.