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.
About the time when I shared a flat with seven other flat-mates who'd leave for MBA class in the morning and I'd come to town to look for a job.
