oasis

At the tea stall around
the corner, you'll see not
more than four people if
you wish a tea in the
afternoon. The blazing
heat and the dusty air are mighty enough
to shape a different culture
here, away from home. You'll see
labourers and servants,
clerks and watchmen, huddling
under the canopy of the tree,
the stall's shelter from
the skies above.
You'll see me sitting
with them too, uneasy
and stared at, holding on for dear life
to my tea and cigarettes till
the ringing of my phone
forces my exit from this motley crew,
from that quiet corner in this cacophonous city.

dusk

In the evening you step
into the living room. On your face
is a scattering of drops, salty on the
air's tongue - the kitchen is a furnace.
And every evening you step into it
to birth sustenance for your
captors. Tell me, is it alright
if I dine out tonight?

When you ask what I'm reading
I mumble the words and think of cigarettes.
You feign to show interest as
the pleats of cloth draping you twitch
uneasily.

Time passes too quickly.
You must ensure the clothes are
ironed and ready soon.

floating towards ithaca

When I came back
the dust had settled,
leaves shook with torpor
under the pleas of a tired
breeze. The city receded into a corner
where she slept
fitfully.
The rumble beneath
my tattered shoes was not
her breath,
all of mankind shaking
her awake.
On the train into town
I met someone and she gifted me
a piece of paper
and asked me to write her
a note sometime.
Now the magic carpet has been lost
and she returned to the land
of mysteries and panic.