Reflections on the bench

I think I saw you (again)

like a cool breeze, swift

and uninterested,

Reducing mirrors (not mine)

to a fisherman's unlucky net.

Call it  a bad (hair) day.

This lady forever laughs

despite the sad news

below her waist,

blood on the pavement

caused by another

motorcycle accident.

Another breeze,

and she was carried away

with the fatal news.

Occupy My Thoughts

Words fell away too soon like monsoon rain, my thoughts dropping like ink

blots on paper. There is no basin to catch their flow.

The dynamics were as simple as shifting the weight of one’s butt in a chair.
It’s the air but it’s not about fair share. Is it economics?

Can a poem like a dog chase its own tail, as they say, about LPAs and ITCZ,

until it spins fast enough to cause a whirlwind?

There is no structure left visible, only fractures and remnants from dispersals.

Pieces have their own randomness like words without season or reason. 

Infrastructure Change

On this pavement, noise and dust are the norm.
They hit the ears like a slap on his face.

'Sorry for the inconvenience' felt like it referred
to him. But his note is in pink.

Neither can he park his car on this lot.
It is giving way to skyscrapers of glass and iron.

The business reasons sounded like a heavy jackhammer,
drilling the numbers on his skull.

A Matter of Fact

Waking up is greater than walking up,
if and only if the length of arms
else reach out to get ration.

What if they were reduced to fractions-
arms, legs, eyes, heads- can blood drops
re-assemble the whole from a pool?

Fool! It is the number that counts.
To kill or keel over is just semantics.
Watch closely the substitutions.

Sorry, the final answer has been rigged.
The equation was just to distract
from the matter of fact.

The Chinese Red Flag and Foul Air

The Chinese raised a red flag
on the island but taxi cabs

ignored each other weaving through
traffic jams. Crab bucket syndrome?

Grab one yourself. But don't forget
to bring your crab cracker.

For the health conscious, stay away
from crackers. The gas side effect

is not toll-free. You pay
with isolation the violation

of ecosystem balance, by fouling
the air with hate speeches.

Straight Lines

But the shortest path between any two points
is not the point. A straight path does not exist

for all surfaces. Sour faces are not attractive.
In fact, no face exists for the humiliated

But that is pointless despite the pores.
The bottom line is a collection of points

under the table, a flat surface generous
with straight lines. Are there gay lines?

Visual Life

I see myself again walking
in a corridor or alley

lit by reflected light
off the main street,

from where children in their bare feet
run, passing by cars parked

on both sides, and in an empty slot
a throng of women sit

around a bingo table, their cards
with numbers marked with stones.

Or in an avenue of a business district
with buildings, tall on both sides

slicing up the sunlight
in patterns of shadows

across the faces of crowds
in their branded shoes or sneakers,

as big SUV cars, one after the other
unload their VIPs on the side,

and before big glass doors,
smiles and hand shakes.

I can hear from the glossy surface,
across the entire scale of grey

the shrill of children,
the honks of cars,

where I was in one moment of life
immersed in its pulse.

This summer has ended

When reds, yellows and greens
have lost their brilliance,

and the lake's deep blue
has turned into shades of grey

While on this ground, brown and dry,
falls the first rain showers

mixing you, earth and tears-
a good-bye to many shared summers.

15-Minute Break

A hand hits a glass of water,
turning it to its side.

It doesn't matter which
decisions are consensual.

Is soiling reputation worse
than wet business proposals?

In simple English terms-
'It just happened.'

There is wisdom in putting
carpets on the floor

for glasses to fall on
and break quietly.

Do people understand
the urgency of the times?

There is only
a 15-minute break.

Exposure

It's fail-safe for them to contain you within
these walls. Here, their passion can heat up
safely and the sound of their violence ripple
invisibly in the air.

Silence begets no questions. Such men know
only their desires. The noise they create
continue to distract them from yours-
your common space tightly soundproofed.

But your head, though bowed, shaken and wracked,
will rise like superheated steam, exploding
against these walls, to burn and crumble them.
Everyone exposed will die from it.

Early Morning Light

Stepping on the beach, the sun throws
its first rays against the sky.

I see hundreds of clouds, in little pieces,
as if keeping each other warm.

The waters ripple, bringing forward
an image of a thousand lights

from far away. So far, it exposes tiny crabs
climbing out of their pits,

and star fishes, still and rigid
on the ground, deserted by the sea.

The breeze dishevels my hair. I have to turn
my face away from the light.

When I look back, a wall of water
blocks the light, and its noise

rushes upon me like a pile of blankets,
heavy, wet and tight.